Becoming
by Digitallace
Summary: HP/DM.DM/HP - Story inspired by a quote and it will follow the boys through major life events spanning several years as they grow and change and become.
1. May 2nd 1998

I promised myself that I would wait until another of my stories was finished before I started posting one of my new ones, but technically I have finished all of HRI, it's in Beta now and to be posted soon, AND I've nearly finished MME, so as a reward to myself I'm posting my first chapter of this story - Becoming.

Authors Note: This story was written in response to a challenge from my friend and beta, Laurel. She was watching an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Becoming... hence the title) and loved the opening and closing monologue and wanted me to apply it to an H/D story. So here it goes.

This story will span over several years in the boy's lives and each chapter will be a major event for one or both of them that will slowly (but surely, because Laurel stipulated that there would have to be a happy ending) bring them together. This fic is not going to be the light fluff of some of mine, in fact, it's panning out to be my most emotionally charged yet, in fact, I actually cried while writing chapter 3, and that NEVER happens to me. lol.

Thanks to my beta for this story, Robert, who is always VERY helpful in my creative process.

------------------------------------------------

_Here's the thing, there's moments in your life that make you, that set the course of who you're gonna be. Sometimes they're little, subtle moments. Sometimes they're not…_

_Bottom line is, even if you see 'em coming, you're never ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are__."_

**May 2****nd**** 1998**

I couldn't be in there anymore. That room in the castle lined with bodies could not possibly be _my_ Hogwarts Great Hall; the place where I had eaten nearly every meal for the past seven years, the place where I read my first wizarding news article, received my first broom, the place where I told countless jokes and stories to my friends as we chatted and studied.

It was impossible that the same room where I was sorted into Gryffindor now contained the bodies of dozens of my friends and people I considered family.

I just couldn't take it.

But even if it had been some other nondescript room, like a dank classroom in the dungeon that I wasn't familiar with, there were also the stares and the whispering to contend with.

"_Did he really kill him with a disarming curse?" _

"_Is it true that he died in the forest?"_

"_Do you think he'll go power mad now?"_

"_I heard he has the Elder Wand!"_

It was always both alarming and humorous how quickly news traversed these hallowed halls, especially when one considers that the Houses rarely, if ever, exchange information with people outside of their own group.

Pick whatever excuse you like; I had to get away.

I didn't venture far though. Merlin only knew the kind of havoc the sudden disappearance of Harry Potter might cause. So instead of making _Prophet_ headlines I opted to pick my way through the debris and the limp robed figures to my favorite tree.

There was something about that tree; ever since my first year there I craved the company of its wild gnarled limbs and its silent silvery bark. It never had any leaves, not even in spring. I kept meaning to ask Neville if it was even alive, because if anyone would know it would be him – master Herbologist – but I never wanted to draw anyone else's attention to it.

It felt as though it was _my_ tree, overlooking the vast mirror polished lake, all twisted and potentially dead inside. Just like me.

That's why when I heard the approaching footsteps it felt like far more of a betrayal than it would have in any other place. It didn't surprise me that people didn't know better than to leave me alone after I killed a Dark Lord and watched people I love die right in front of my eyes, but I was angry about it nonetheless.

My hands clenched into fists at my side, hidden for the most part by my robes, as I waited for the tentative comforting from Hermione or the firm clap on the back from Ron, or possibly even the insistent plea from Molly for me to come back inside.

None of those were the voice that reached my ears, however, and the one that did made me reach for my wand. The feel of the holly in my hand after so long without it made me feel more secure in the presence of this current annoyance.

"I thought that was you," Malfoy noted at he made his way closer to where I stood. I neither backed away nor got closer, I merely brandished my wand so that he would know I was not in the mood for his games.

Though, when I thought about it, the gesture was rather unnecessary as I carried three wands with me at that moment, the Deathstick, Malfoy's hawthorn wand and my holly one. The three very different magical woods reverberated through my skin, leaving a sharp tingling sensation akin to a limb falling to sleep.

"Well spotted," I replied sarcastically. "Now what is it you want?"

Malfoy sighed, all the air billowing from his lungs in a sharp hiss, but he didn't reply with a snide comment or a well place stab to the ego, as he normally would have. Instead he took a step forward and bowed his head so that I could no longer see his sharp features or his turbulent eyes.

It always seemed as though a storm was brewing inside of Malfoy's body, and his eyes always reflected the dark gray clouds and biting lightning strikes. I had always found Malfoy's eyes intriguing, as I feel eyes are the windows into a person's soul, and Malfoy's soul seemed perpetually troubled. But then who was I to judge, I just had a bit of Voldemort's soul ripped out of me when I died a mere four hours ago.

"You saved my life," he whispered, as if that explained his sudden presence.

"And?" I asked, hoping he might elaborate on his statement or question or whatever it was he wanted so that I could tell him to bugger off and get back to my brooding.

His head whipped up then, and those stormy eyes met mine. They seemed like tornados threatening to swallow him up. "Why, why would you save me when I was trying to kill you?" he asked, his voice breaking with an emotion I had never heard from Malfoy. Was it regret, remorse or just the pain of not having an answer?

I thought about it though. It was the first time I had gotten the chance to think at all about my reasoning for such a valiant act of foolishness and the answer I came up with was simple, yet not simple at all.

"It was the right thing to do."

Malfoy's face twisted in agony and he bowed his head once more. When he raised it again it was as calm and composed as when he had first approached me. "How did you know it was right?" he asked, a question that surprised me more than his very presence there in the first place.

I merely shrugged. For that question I had no answer, nor did I feel like contemplating the query. Voldemort's soul was still inside me when I rescued Malfoy from the Fiendfyre in the Room of Hidden Things. Perhaps it was that part of me that saved the Malfoy heir or maybe it was something else inside me, but either way I wasn't up to debating wrong versus right with the price of darkness.

"I try to do what's right, what is needed to protect my family, to keep us all safe, but I always choose the wrong path," he muttered, stumbling forward slightly as he moved closer to me.

"Yes, you do," I replied. If he was looking for an argument he wasn't going to find one here.

His eyes flicked up to mine then, that storm had receded slightly and I could see a hint of blue within their depths. "Maybe you could help me choose correctly?" he asked, his eyelids dropping slightly, almost… seductively.

"I think I've done my good deed by you, Malfoy," I told him, turning away and giving him my back instead of my attention.

He huffed, but his words were not harried or rude. "I know. I shouldn't have… it's not why I'm here."

I let my shoulders sag and exhaled heavily as I ran a hand through my still filthy hair. I was so tired, I really didn't need to play Malfoy games at this juncture. "Please Malfoy, just tell me what you came to tell me and be off. I really just want to be alone."

I could both feel and hear him stepping up closer behind me and when I turned around we were almost nose-to-nose.

"I wanted to thank you," he said, and if I could believe that Malfoy could look shy I would have said so then. "I wanted to thank you for saving my life and to tell you that if you ever need me… for anything at all, I'm here for you."

My face must have betrayed how ludicrous I thought his statement was because the first signs of what might have eventually become a smile creased his face when he looked up at me. "You realize how impossible this is, right?" I asked, trying to conceal a laugh.

All mirth drained away and Malfoy took a step back and shook his head. "I owe you a blood debt, Potter, and Malfoy's do not take debts of any kind lightly, least of all something like this."

"Just… how about I call us even? Your mum saved me in the forest after all," I offered. I really wasn't in the mood for pureblood proselytizing and the rules of what a Malfoy would and wouldn't do.

"It doesn't work like that," he rebuked, stepping back into my personal space. I wanted to step away and it took all of my self-control not to.

"In case you didn't notice, Malfoy," I began, hissing the name like the poison it was, "I don't subscribe to your cult of Death Eaters or their rules on blood debts. You owe me nothing. I saved your life because it was the right thing to do. I would have saved your friend too if I could have. It means nothing. Just drop it, okay?"

His cheeks and forehead took on a hue of red that I typically only saw on a Weasley, but before he let himself haul off and slug me, he took a deep breath and nodded. I was relieved at first, thinking he was going to drop it, but I should have known better.

"It doesn't escape me that you weren't brought up the same way as I was, Harry," he whispered. His voice was soft and gentle, and he took me off guard with his use of my given name. "It doesn't change the way things are. You saved me, and now my life is yours. Take it or leave it, it doesn't make it any less true. The magic that flows through my veins is there because you will it so."

My eyes blinked over a dozen times trying to comprehend his words, and the meaning behind them, but when I thought I might have stumbled on it, I wish I hadn't. "What happens if you don't repay the debt?" I asked, wishing he had never come out here to see me in the first place.

"Unless I repay the debt, if something happens to you and I could have in any way prevented it, then my life is forfeit," he answered honestly.

"So when I die, you die?" I asked, not completely understanding what kind of responsibility was being laid in my incapable hands.

"If you don't allow me to repay the dept, then yes. When you die, I die," he confirmed.

"What if I die of natural causes and never have anyone else threaten my life?" It seemed like a fairly plausible question since I just killed the big bad of my prophecy and I wasn't aware of any others that my name was attached to.

Draco, however, seemed to think it far less plausible than I did. "Really, so you'll become a reclusive hermit now?" he scoffed. "I think you're far too blustery for that lifestyle.

"Blustery?" I asked, not even sure what in Merlin's name he meant by that comment and rolled my eyes. "I'll take good care of myself, don't you worry your pretty little head over it, Malfoy," I mocked.

His eyes glistened like an ice storm at my words, though I couldn't understand the thoughts behind them.

"So you're not going to give me the option of repaying the debt? I just get to sit around and twiddle my thumbs waiting to see if you drop dead? You are planning to be an Auror, yes?" he asked, a deep crease to his eyes that I had never seen before.

Those were my plans, but Malfoy's point was sharp, I would be putting my life in danger every day if I took that route, but what was I supposed to do, bring him along? "You might try pretending that your concern isn't only for yourself," I huffed, poking a sharp finger into his chest.

Malfoy only sighed and crossed his arms over his ribs. "It wouldn't matter to you _what_ my concern was over. It apparently means nothing to you that my life hangs in balance with your decisions."

"It always has," I muttered, not really meaning to say so out loud.

"What?" Malfoy asked, staring at me incredulously.

"It was my job alone to kill Voldemort. If I ever made the wrong decision it would have meant your death and thousands of others. I thought my responsibility to the wizarding population was over and done, and you come over and thrust a new task upon me," I growled. Sure my problems didn't stem entirely from the shrewd Slytherin in front of me, but he didn't leave when I warned him off and so taking it all out on him was just as good as anybody. Maybe even better.

He simply gritted his teeth and closed his eyes in response to my words. No argument, no biting remark, nothing, just his pale eyelashes fluttering closed against his still flushed face.

"I don't have to save your life to repay the debt," he blurted when I didn't say any more.

"What?" I asked, still confused as to why he was still there at all.

"It can be something else, something equally important to you as your life," he adjusted.

"For instance?" I asked, knowing that there was plenty I valued more than my life. I just gave it up for the greater good a mere few hours ago and it left me feeling hollow.

"If, for instance, you were a person who valued fortune above all else, I could simply help you reach your goal and be released from my debt," he explained.

"I have more than enough money to spend in multiple lifetimes, but thanks," I muttered.

"Well then what do you value?" he asked, looking genuinely curious.

All I could do is shrug. Nothing seemed terribly important to me right then. He certainly couldn't bring my dead friends and family back, and he couldn't help me with my relationship with Gin, or with having a family. "I might need to get back to you, Malfoy," I muttered.

He sighed and nodded, but there was an edge of a smile to his lips. He took a silver band from his index finger and held it out to me.

"Are you proposing?" I teased, lifting a dark eyebrow into the fringe of my hair. "Because if you are, I'm going to have to decline," I added, grinning at his grimace.

"No, Potter. I am most certainly _not _proposing," he huffed and grabbed my right hand gently, slipping the band onto my ring finger. "If you need me, or think of something I can do for you, just twist it three times and say my name. I'll be there," he whispered, and it sounded like a promise he would never break.

I nodded, feeling suddenly dumbfounded by his close proximity and his hand clutching mine. The air around us seemed to be screaming for something to happen, and I thought for a moment that we might… but then it was over and he was walking away, leaving me standing beneath my tree and wondering what in Merlin's name had just happened.

Getting all of three minutes to myself, I was startled once again by a sharp clap on the back.

"What did the ferret want?" Ron asked, far less hostilely than I would have imagined possible with those particular words in his throat, but one look at his face told me why.

Ron stood there beside me, his flaming hair potentially more disheveled than mine. His face was streaked with dried tear track and his eyes were red and swollen. He looked as empty as I felt and I threw my arm around his shoulders and we walked along the lake's edge, kicking away branches and stones that fell in our path.

"I don't know what he wanted. I'm still not sure," I told him as I looked down at the ring on my finger, and it was the partial truth at least.

"Did he tell you about the blood debt?" Ron asked, looking out over the lake instead of at me.

I sighed and tried not to push him away. "Not you too," I muttered. "I can't take any more pureblood nonsense today."

He stopped so abruptly that I almost fell. "It's not nonsense, Harry. It's old magic and whether you like or not, you're stuck with him now."

A simple groan wouldn't have expressed the feeling of desolation I felt at his words. "He said I just have to give him a way to repay the debt and then I can be rid of him."

"He wishes," Ron huffed, unhappy laughter tainting his words.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, feeling completely bombarded by information.

Ron took one look at my face and whatever he was going to say died on his lips and he shrugged instead. "Look, maybe he knows more about it than I do, he is a Malfoy after all," he replied bitterly. "But the way I always understood it, if you save someone's life, they belong to you forever, to do with as you see fit."

"I don't see fit to do anything to Malfoy, so we can just drop it, alright?" I pleaded. I couldn't take anymore of this mess tonight; I already had too many other things to clean up.

"Right. Sorry," he muttered and we went back to walking.

"How are you?" I asked, after the silence stretched between us for too long. I didn't mind the quiet, but it felt forced on Ron's end, as if he came out here to talk to me and I was ignoring his needs.

"Lousy, you?" he replied.

"The same," I muttered. "Where's Hermione and Gin?" I asked, curious that Ron would leave Hermione's side so soon.

"They're busying themselves working in the Hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey and trying to help as much as they can," he muttered. "I just couldn't watch any more people die," he admitted, looking rather sick over it.

"And how about your mum?" I asked, knowing she had taken a pretty heavy hit with the loss of Fred.

He winced slightly at my question but answered it just the same. "She's a wreck, Harry. I've never seen her so… broken," he said, stopping and turning to face me. "And George? He's like the walking dead; I don't know if he'll _ever_ be the same again."

"I don't think any of us will be," I whispered, my eyes training down to the ring on my finger as I turned it over and over.

Authors Note: As always I'm eager to hear what you all think of the new stuff, so please review. this story isn't on a regular rotation yet, so if you'd like updates please subscribe or join my Yahoo group. You can see the newest headers either on the Group or my LJ or my website (I really like the one for this chapter, so check it out)


	2. January 3rd, 1999

Authors Note: Many thanks to my beta Robert and to my dear friend Laurel for requesting it! Also, if anyone would like to know about updates and/or new projects you can find me on Facebook or my Yahoo Group (see my profile for details).

**January 3****rd****, 1999**

There I sat, shackled and caged like I was some kind of wild beast. I didn't have my wand and I was surrounded by Aurors and the Wizengamot, what in Merlin's name did they think I would do?

But it mattered very little to them how humiliated I was. I'm sure they all felt it was the least I deserved, son of notorious Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, and all around terror to one Harry James Potter. Though, truth be told, I'd seen neither hide nor hair of him since I gave him the ring to summon me by.

The truth of it was that everyone with even a minor association with the Dark Lord was being hauled off to Azkaban, and it could be said that my association with him was rivaled only by his closest Death Eaters. He lived in my house, he threatened my mother, he marked my father, he murdered several people right before my eyes, all with a twisted cackling smile that I couldn't stop having nightmares about.

I hated the Dark Lord more than any of these people could claim because I had known him more intimately. Just as Potter was their hero for killing the wretched creature, he was mine as well. Not that I'd ever admit that to him, mind you.

At any rate, it didn't seem like I'd ever get the chance, as it seemed my fate as the recipient of the Dementor's Kiss was only moments away. I looked around the room at all the unfriendly faces staring down at me and I wondered what it would feel like to have my soul stolen from my body.

My father had been sentenced the day before. He was to receive the kiss at weeks end and I wondered if I would be there with him, or if I would be in an Azkaban cell awaiting my own demise. The older man had made plenty of mistakes in his life, but he had been a decent father, particularly at the end of things, and I would always love him. A Malfoy is owed better than a limp and soulless existence, but such is the way of things after a war when you support the wrong side. I was only lucky that my family wasn't further up the list of those brought before the Wizengamot. Pansy's parents had been sentenced weeks before I was even summoned to the Ministry for my first hearing.

My mother would be at the prison ceremony at least, so that father didn't die alone. She had been tried the day before and released based upon a testimony that they refused to release to the public. I wept for them both, angry and sorrowful tears for my father and tears of relief for my mother. I don't think I could have borne having them both ripped away from me at once.

Though I might still have no choice.

The only thing I had been hoping might work to my favor was that most of the tragic deeds I performed for Voldemort were done before I was of age, but that argument had been thrown out the window at once when someone noted that Potter was only eleven when he first stood against the Dark Lord. No one seemed to note the fact that not everyone was Harry Potter: not everyone was abnormally brave and valiant and foolhardy. Some of us just wanted to live to see another day and not to have their own mother tortured and killed right before their very eyes. But there was no use getting bitter about it.

I learned a long time ago that the world could stand for a change, but that I couldn't be the one to facilitate it. Not that I thought Voldemort had the right answers by any means, but there was something to his general message that we with the magic should not have to cower to those without.

But then, at the moment, I was without.

The silence of the room wasn't lost on me, and every moment I sat there – trembling like an idiot despite my inner lectures on how a Malfoy should never show weakness or emotion to someone who wishes you harm, which, for a Malfoy, is everyone – I could see the gaping black maw of death opening in the darkness above the heads of the Wizengamot, and it just kept opening up wider and wider.

It wasn't until I looked around at the faces of the jury who would seal my fate that I began to truly panic. There were only three that I recognized among the seething horde, and they were all associates of my fathers, not even my own. If they couldn't get my father released from his sentence then what chance did I stand?

None.

Then the doors burst open and two figures strode into the room, one looking as though he had a great and noble purpose, and the other clinging to his hand as she tried to pull him back out of the courtroom.

Potter, for it was unmistakably the raven-haired wizard that saved us all from that madman, Voldemort, marched up to the center of the gathering and ignored the girl prying at his arm.

The girl was the youngest Weasley child, a brazen young woman who looked furious with Potter for being there, which made me curious as to what his purpose was in interrupting my hearing.

"Harry," she hissed viciously. "Just leave it; he deserves what they give him."

His vibrant green eyes flicked to mine then, holding so much wisdom to contrast with the age of his skin. You would scarcely believe he was barely a man if you only caught a glimpse of those emerald pools. They made him seem bolder, more confident and in charge, especially if you ignored the simpering girl that clung to him.

Potter was determined, I could see that easily enough by his stance, his legs slightly parted and his right hand wrapped tightly around a wand I had never recalled seeing. His dark eyebrows were lowered so that he appeared almost angry, but I knew from the years I had spent studying the boy that he was merely annoyed and uncomfortable so he tried to ward people away with his expression. Though I never knew if it was intentional or not.

Under his plain black robes peeked out a well tailored suit of gray pinstripes and a black shirt and tie. It was odd to imagine this man, who I felt like I knew so well at one time, standing before me like a stranger. His hair was cut and fell haphazardly around his features, covering his scar, but not looking disheveled and only half groomed as it had when we were in school. He wore no glasses, which I was partially glad for because it allowed me to see his eyes more clearly and partially angry about, because Potter was a mess of symbols, to the people and to myself, and one of those symbols were the round spectacles he wore every day, which never seemed to fit him right.

He gave me the weight of his gaze, as if measuring me for something that I could never understand, but as soon as he bit into his bottom lip, I smiled. I knew then that he was there for me, and sure enough he rounded on Ginevra and shook her off of his arm, sending her to the other end of the room to stand next to the Aurors in a huff.

Afterward he turned to the Judges balcony and addressed the new Chief Warlock Percy Weasley, and the Minister himself; Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The Minister eyed Potter warily, and didn't look keen on his being there at all, while Percy nodded in polite greeting and sat back in his chair as if he knew exactly what it was Potter was about to say.

"I've come to address the court directly as it seems my testimony has done little good toward Malfoy's release," Potter announced, his shoulders set and his eyes narrowed.

"We took your testimony into consideration, Mr. Potter, and it has already garnered one of the Malfoy family their freedom," Kingsley told him firmly. "I wouldn't be too pushy when it comes to this matter. We've already allotted the Malfoy family with fringe benefits that most Death Eater's and their families would kill for.

I could see Harry's jaw clench and he brushed a hand through his hair, pushing it back in a gesture that seemed casual, but the fact that it revealed the lightning bolt scar in stark contrast on his otherwise unmarred face, made me wonder if it was a purposeful move.

Kingsley seemed to wonder the same, but there was no denying it had achieved its effect, as the courtroom began to stir and whispers began to float as to why Harry Potter, savior of us all, would be there to try and free none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Do I need to remind you of our terms, _Minister_?" Potter asked, as he spat the man's title like it was something foul and poisonous.

The Minister huffed and closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them again his jaw was set and his eyes sparkled with defiance. "I think that letting Narcissa Malfoy go, free of any and all charges, as well as delaying their sentence for over six months should be sufficient to call our bargain fair, Harry."

So it was him.

It was Potter that freed my mother, and Potter that had bought us these extra days. What didn't the imbecile understand about debts? I already owed him my life, now I would have to owe him my freedom? As far as debtors are concerned I couldn't have ended up owing a more honest bloke, but I didn't want to owe anything to anyone. Period.

I couldn't believe that I just had to sit back and watch as Potter unwittingly merged his fate ever closer to my own.

"Our terms were for the release of both Narcissa and Draco and a fair trial for Lucius, _Kingsley_," Harry replied with a smug grin that was not unbecoming on his handsome face. I thought it was additionally clever how Potter snuck in that he was not below the Minister by refusing his title. Not many would have the gall to do such a thing in the middle of the Wizengamot.

"Harry," the Minister warned, but his tone fell short and even I could tell that he was afraid. It was almost humorous to think of the Minister for Magic was afraid of a boy, but this boy was to be feared no doubt.

"Should I enlighten the Wizengamot, as well as the reporters," he added, nodding to the small group of enthralled journalists with their quills hovering close by and scribbling furiously. "Of our exact arrangement?" he asked, with challenging eyes. "Or will you honor our agreement and let Draco go?"

He bartered something with the Minister on my behalf? It was impossible to imagine him doing such a thing, and completely unprovoked nonetheless. But then I suppose that was Potter's way. I never understood his unyielding kindness toward others, even people like me, who he stood nothing to benefit from with this stunt.

"I'm calling a recess," Kingsley announced. "I'll see you in my office, Mr. Potter and you as well, Mr. Weasley," he said, gesturing to Percy who followed him at once.

As Harry passed, I struck out through the bars of my cage and snagged the back of his robes. With a startled look he turned toward me, and though his face remained firmly set in a confidently determined demeanor, his eyes softened as they looked upon me.

With an annoyed looking wave, Harry disbanded the other Aurors that had gathered around us, most likely ready to stun him or worse if I tried anything unseemly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, before I could say a word.

"Are you daft?" I answered with my own question. "Why are you doing this?"

His face fell momentarily before resetting into his confident mask once more. "I'm getting you out of here," he told me. "You may be a prat but you don't belong in Azkaban."

I rolled my eyes and let go of his robes, fairly sure that he would stay until I shooed him away. "There are hundreds in the wizarding community who would disagree."

Harry smiled then, and it was bashful despite the smug words that followed. "I suppose it's lucky for you then that I'm the one they'll all be listening to."

I sighed and grabbed his shoulder once more, pulling him close to the bars so that I could better see his expression when I asked my next question. It would determine everything. "Why are you doing this?" I asked again, putting in my own gaze how serious I was that he be honest with me.

He grimaced.

More than that though, his face twisted slightly in several different directions all at once and I could see how conflicted he was."I have to," he said finally. "I don't know why, but it's important. I know it is and I know that you're not a killer."

I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding and nodded. "So, not because it's the right thing to do?" I asked, trying to remind him of his words from our last talk, and he shook his head vigorously.

"No… that's just it, I'm not sure it _is_ the right thing to do, but I have to do it," he told me honestly, and it was then that I realized how honest Potter really was. He would never lie, not even to me. Not even to make someone feel better or to break bad news softly, and certainly not to protect himself… But maybe he would lie to protect someone else.

I was pleased with my new knowledge, and I smiled at him before shaking my head in mock dismay. "Off with you then," I told him. "Get back to work saving my arse. You're becoming quite the professional at it I might add," I told him teasingly.

He shot me a crooked grin and gripped the hand that still held his shoulder; it wasn't lost on me that my ring still adorned his finger. "I'll get this fixed. Don't worry," he whispered before striding off toward the door and ignoring the reporters all begging for a piece of him.

Hours ticked by and still no sign of Harry, but soon the Minister emerged with the Chief Warlock in tow and he called for everyone's attention. Afterward he remained silent, his lips pressed into a sour expression as Percy stood and addressed the Wizengamot.

"After hearing Mr. Potter's testimony and a retelling of the events of and leading up to the war, the Minister and I have renounced the charges against Draco Malfoy. He is to be released at once into Auror custody so that he may be safely returned to his home.

In the commotion that ensued after such a heated proposition I searched out the green eyes of my saving grace but found them nowhere. I wondered if he had felt his good deed done and vanished into the night like some muggle comic book hero, though I couldn't imagine Potter as the spandex-wearing sort.

It was only moments afterward that the iron shackles were unlocked from my sore wrists and I was led from the cage in the center of the court into a small holding room down the hall and closer to the lift.

A wheezy old wizard with long silver hair met me inside the room and locked the door behind us. I rubbed at the torn skin of my wrists as I paced the room. The Auror never spoke and neither did I. It was only when I heard the door open again that I turned around to stare straight into those piercing green orbs once more.

"So you didn't disappear on me then?" I asked, shielding the happiness that I knew was all too evident on my face by bowing it slightly.

"Not yet," he answered; his voice tentative and strained.

I looked up then and saw Harry's eyes again, a new weight settled upon them and for some reason that struck me sharply to my core. "What is it?" I asked, not even sure why I cared, or why his wellbeing was suddenly important to me.

He merely shook his head and laced his arm through mine. "We've been given a temporary apparition point to take us directly to your grounds," he said, gesturing to our linked arms. "Are you ready?"

All I could do was nod as he apparated with me back to my own home, back to the Manor, my rooms, the beautiful gardens, and my mother. She met us at the gate: a towering structure made of old stone columns and wrought iron, and though she went first to me, pulling me in a tight embrace, her eyes were all for Harry. I had no idea what silent exchange they had between one another behind my back, and no doubt they would both deny it had even occurred, but I knew it did, because my mother was crying when I pulled back to look at her and Harry was walking away.

"Won't you stay for dinner, Potter?" I asked, calling to him across the rocky path. He shot me that crooked smile again, but shook his head.

"I should get back. Gin will worry," he replied. "See you around, Malfoy," he called back before apparating away with a sharp 'pop', and leaving me alone with my mother.

"I think you've made a very powerful friend," she told me as I walked beside her toward the looming marble doors that graced the entrance of our home. "Your father would be proud."

I laughed. It was a harsh nasally sound and I shook my head. "Potter and I will never be friends," I promised. "But for now I am content to have him as my ally."

A smile that I didn't recognize graced my mother's lips and she nodded. "If you say so, dear," she offered and refused to elaborate any further. I had no idea what was running through her cunning mind but I had an idea I wouldn't like it.

Though I suppose the important part was that I was free, and not some soulless prisoner in Azkaban, and I could appreciate the fact that I wouldn't like whatever it was my mother had planned for me.

I relished in that fact for some time, and tried to ignore the truth that my father would die in five days time. After that, it would just be me and my mother from that point on.

Authors Note: yes this story is going to skip forward a lot, though not such a drastic jump each time.


	3. January 8th, 1999

Authors Note: Many thanks to my beta Robert! Also, if anyone would like to know about updates and/or new projects you can find me on Facebook or my Yahoo Group (see my profile for details).

**January 8****th****, 1999**

I spun slow circles in my office chair as I gazed down at the ring on my finger. Nearly a year and still I couldn't stop marveling at it.

It was probably just a small trinket to him, something he had picked up in Diagon alley or over a Hogsmeade weekend, but to me it was an important symbol.

Symbol for what - I hadn't quite worked that out yet though.

What I thought at first to be a simple sterling band was actually much more than I had suspected. It was ornately covered in silver snakes that slithered across the surface of the ring and tickled the surrounding fingers on occasion. I tried taking it off once, and found it nearly impossible. It wasn't because of a sticking charm or any other kind of magic, but simply because it hurt me to do so.

I felt a persistent burning sensation in my heart whenever I tried to remove it for any length of time, so I just left it on, trying to ignore that I had a piece of jewelry with his name engraved into the metal on the inside of it. I wore it when I slept, when I showered, even when I took Ginny out.

No easy shrug of the shoulders was explanation enough to Gin as to why I wore the silver bauble at all times. Finally I simply had to fib and tell her it was an heirloom, and she left me alone about it. I felt dreadful telling her such a blatant lie, but I justified it by reasoning that maybe it _was_ an heirloom, it just wasn't mine. Regardless, she backed off, which was not something she would have done if I had told her it was from Draco Malfoy.

I'm not sure what she would have done if I'd told her the truth, but I was certain that it would be something unbecoming of a lady, because no one could accuse Ginny of being a lady. It was one of the things I liked about her. She was spirited to say the least, and when she wanted something she stopped at nothing to get it, including me I suppose. Sometimes I wondered if I would be just as important to her if I were mounted on her wall as some sort of hunting trophy as I was just being her boyfriend… No scratch that, fiancé.

The word kept sticking in my throat when I tried to say it out loud, and when I finally did say it, my voice tended to crack, which Ron thought was a laugh riot, but Ginny most certainly did not. It was hard not to think on our impending nuptials with slight fear, even though they were still a year or so away. Gin wanted a spring wedding, and since she had only persuaded me to propose over Christmas, it was too soon to plan for an event like she had her heart set on and still have it in the spring.

Everyone was very supportive… too supportive if you ask me. Just once I would have loved someone to question my judgment, tell me I might be rushing into things, or tell me she's not the one. Even if they were wrong, which they would have been, it would be nice to hear someone, anyone, go against something I said.

But no, I'm the great Harry Potter and what I say goes, no matter how asinine. It would be nice to think, just once, that I didn't get away with anything I wanted simply because I was the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

That very thing was why I ended up in the dank and moist lobby of Azkaban Prison at seven in the morning that Friday.

It was Ron who first agreed. I told him over lunch, barely mentioning in jest that it might be a nice gesture to show up at the ceremony where Lucius would receive the full penalty for his choices later that week. I wanted to oversee things and make sure that Malfoy was doing alright after I vouched for him the previous Sunday.

"Yeah, that would be a laugh, us showing up to his dad's funeral. He wouldn't know what to think!" Ron barked, his face lighting up the way Fred's used to when he was plotting some major mischief.

"_You _wouldn't be going," I warned. "I just thought, since his father was… you know, receiving the Kiss and all, that maybe he could use a friend," I muttered, not sure how those words even made it out of my mouth.

It's not that I didn't feel awful about it. As terrible as Lucius was I couldn't very well procure him the same deal as I did Draco and his mum. The man _did _try and kill me after all. But it didn't mean I wanted Draco be alone to watch his father's soul ripped from his body; to watch him turn from the man Draco remembered into a shell who wouldn't even recognize his own wife or son.

No one, no matter how terrible, deserved to have that be the last memory of their father, and if it was, the very least I could do was be there by his side. I nearly grew up with him, even though it was on opposite sides of the world in a way; still, he was my age, my heritage: we could have been friends.

I said none of this to Ron, however. I just looked at him carefully and let him know it wasn't a joke and he cleared his throat and nodded. "Sure, mate. I think it's a good idea," he offered with a shrug and proceeded to change the subject.

No amount of wanting to call him out on being a liar would do me any good. If Ron wanted to placate me the way Molly and Hermione and even Kingsley did, then they could have their fun. I knew they didn't do it out of respect, but rather fear.

I saw it in their eyes, all of them. Even Ginny's sometimes, who was the only person that did not think it was a good idea to visit Malfoy. She still hated the son for something the father did years ago, and I could understand that. That did not, however, means that I necessarily needed to agree with her. The event with the Diary in her first year at Hogwarts made her who she was, but what she failed to realize, was that without it she would have been just as afraid of me as everyone else.

Was there something to be afraid of? Sure.

They all heard the rumors and took what they wanted from them; the fact of the matter was that Voldemort, a sliver of his corrupted soul, lived inside of me for seventeen years. Who knows what damage it caused to my own undeveloped soul? Who knows if it contaminated me with its evil, or if, worse, if it never really left me at all?

Those were the things that kept me up at night. When my magic began to grow exponentially after the war, I kept it a secret: hidden from even the ones I was closest to. It was not because I didn't love them – far from it – but because, as the aftermath of the war began to settle, I realized that I had no true friends and no one who I could completely trust.

If even Ron caught wind of the fact that I could suddenly perform wandless magic with barely a thought, he would turn me into the Ministry; Kingsley wouldn't hesitate to bind me and place me in a cell.

The fact that they knew nothing of my extra abilities and were still afraid of me spoke volumes.

The air was damp. No, I take that back. The air is damp in London; the air out there in the middle of the icy waters of the North Sea, that air was frigid and wet. It burned when I took a breath it was so cold and the spray of the water against the jagged black rock of the island made my body shiver and my teeth chatter.

I was starting to think that this idea wasn't so good after all, but the portkey in my hand, a tawny pheasant feather, wouldn't reactivate for another few hours.

The ceremony that was to take place was for more than just Lucius Malfoy, which irked me slightly. I felt as though a family should get to experience their grief in private, not in an audience setting with a six for one special.

That day the lives of six witches and wizards would be irrevocably changed as their souls were torn from their bodies and they were reduced to a drooling mass. It made my heart clench as I thought of having narrowly saved my godfather from that same fate a few years before, only to have him taken from me in an even more mysterious – though less horrid – way.

Even with six people dying, there were only five people there, and two I knew were there for Lucius. What could someone do that was so horrible that no one would show up at your funeral? Even Voldemort had mourners, and you didn't get much worse than plotting the genocide of an entire culture.

It made me wonder briefly who would attend my funeral, and how much relief would be in their voices when they spoke about me.

I lingered in the back, taking in the scene before me. Narcissa sat in the front of the small stone hall with Draco at her side. They were both dressed in black, which matched the décor and tone of the room, but contrasted sharply with their brilliant blonde hair and pale luminescent skin. Draco's mother wore a thin black veil covering her face. The moment I stepped aside to allow an older woman with a hunched back and silvered hair to pass, Narcissa looked right at me, and even through her veil I could see the warm thanks in her eyes.

Her eyes were not unlike Draco's in that they held a turbulent force behind them, but her eyes were more of a blue, whereas Draco's only took on a hue that could be likened to blue when he was happy or excited about something. The fact that I knew so much about his temperament and how his eyes would look when he felt one way or another disturbed me slightly.

I gave Mrs. Malfoy a brief but polite nod and hoped she didn't draw her son's attention to my presence. I still wasn't sure if it was appropriate to be there and, if he wanted to talk to me, what would I say? 'Sorry about your father's soul, wish I could have done more?' The fact of it was that I probably could have but I wouldn't have asked for an easy dismissal for the man who was Voldemort's right hand. He made his choices and those were his consequences. I just hated to see Malfoy suffer.

Though I didn't know why that would be the case either.

I hated Malfoy for as long as I could remember, ever since that first meeting when he reminded me of Dudley at Madame Malkin's. The confrontation on the train only hastened my opinion that he was a spoiled git, and then his increasingly aggressive behavior toward me and my friends only made it that much worse.

But there had to have been a reason I saved him that day during the war. And his thanks afterward had seemed sincere, but that was probably mostly only because he sincerely needed my help.

A rotund man was standing in front of me, blocking my view of the Malfoy's and I shifted toward the aisle to try and spot them again, watch them to see if I was intruding or not, when I saw Draco walking right toward me, looking purposeful and perturbed.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he hissed. "Come to rub it in that my father is finally getting what he deserves?"

I blanched, not knowing what to say really. When I had left him with his mother earlier in the week he had seemed… accepting, even going so far as to invite me to stay and share a meal. I should have known the niceties wouldn't last, and as I steeled myself to walk away I noticed his eyes for the first time.

The storm inside of him was raging, no doubt, but it looked like the clouds roiling through them were made of crimson blood. His eyes were worn, creased at the corners from too much sobbing. His nose was swollen and red, and I hadn't noticed before how raspy his voice was from a throat that was obviously hoarse from screaming.

I'm not sure what came over me in that moment, but I hugged him. I wrapped my arms around his seemingly frail body and I held him tightly to my chest.

He went rigged at first, clearly as taken aback by the gesture as I was, but after a moment or two he relaxed into it, and then he nearly collapsed in my arms, only held upright because I willed it so. He cried into my shoulder that morning, a bout of shuddering yet silent sobs wracking his body. I held him, just as I would have done for any of my friends; just as I _had_ done for some of them when the war took a family member and there was a funeral to attend.

"I fucking hate you, Potter," he rasped into my collar bone, a pale fist pounding weakly into my chest and I simply nodded.

"I know," I told him softly. "I hate you, too."

He stopped crying then, a choking laugh breaking through the tears, but he didn't step back, didn't let go, and eventually I pulled him over to the bench he had been occupying with his mother and sat him down. I was going to go back to my hiding spot at the back of the crowd, but his hand remained firmly in my own, not letting me part from his side.

So I sat there, wedged between Malfoy and a strange dark haired woman with a vacant stare. It was one of the most awkward arrangements I had gotten myself into, and the hand in mine, which continued to grasp roughly as if he feared I would leave, was an odd comfort. I could only hope I was providing some fraction of comfort to him as well.

The prisoners were led into the hall, one by one by grizzled looking Aurors. The Dementor was led in after that, just the one, but still it made my chest tighten and suddenly I was happy to have someone, even if that someone was Draco Malfoy, holding my hand and keeping out the nightmares the creature tried to inflict upon me.

Draco and I gasped in unison when we noticed Lucius for the first time. He was a mere shadow of the man I had grown to loathe as a child. His cheeks were hollow and as pale as the moonlight. His skin was nearly transparent and you could see the purple rushing of his pureblood coursing beneath it. His hair was matted with dirt and grime, cropped short and stubbly against his head. What was worse was the proud Slytherin father figure, the arrogant man who carried himself as if he were the most important person alive – that person had already vanished and became a broken shell who merely grunted as the guard forced him to his knees.

When his gray eyes, eyes that matched Draco's in more ways than color, trained on his wife and son, there was no storm, there were no clouds hastening across their surface. They were blank, like gray slate left untreated in the sun and made powdery and parched.

The man that these two people loved was already gone.

Merlin only knew what they had done to him to make someone as haughty and proud as Lucius Malfoy break so thoroughly in the span of a week.

As the Dementor descended toward the first of its victims I began to panic. More than anything I wanted to shield Draco from witnessing any further atrocities done to his father, and though Lucius would be the last of the six to lose his soul to the Kiss, if Draco knew what it looked like, he could imagine it happening to his father.

With the hand he was holding I squeezed him tightly and with my free hand I turned his face toward mine and away from the ghastly show that was about to take place.

"Potter, what-" he sputtered, his eyes wide and terrified, and I'm not sure what he saw in my own gaze that halted his words, but he said no more.

"Just look at me," I ordered. "Keep watching me, no matter what you hear, or how bad you want to look, just keep your eyes on mine," I demanded softly. "Okay?"

He nodded and did as he was told; his eyes locked with my own and even as the first man whimpered and pleaded for his life, Draco never looked away from me. A loud thump of a thick body hitting the floor was all the warning we got of the second man being taken. The third was a witch, and her shriek rang out through the hall as her soul was sucked from her body, but Draco's eyes stayed glued and unblinking to mine. The forth made more of a gurgling sound, as if he were drowning and the fifth chanted over and over to the gods before there was only silence from him as well.

Draco's bottom lip began to quiver and I steeled my grip on both his hand and jaw, making sure he didn't break our agreement. "Listen to me, Draco. Your father is a Malfoy, as fine and ornery as they come and this will not change that. He loves you, Draco, and he will always love you. Do you hear me?" I asked, ignoring the misting of my own eyes as I spoke.

He nodded curtly and buried his face against my chest and I held him, covering his ears against his father's silent scream and trying not to watch Narcissa's face crumble with unspoken grief at her husband's fate and what seemed to be gratitude for my presence.

The rest of the ceremony rushed by, as the limp, soulless bodies were carried away and the Dementor escorted off the island. Draco never looked back up at me, but kept his hand wrapped firmly in mine as we made our way back into the lobby of the ominous prison.

"No one hears a word of this, Potter," he noted in clipped tones as he extracted his hand from mine.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I muttered, drawing an invisible 'x' over my heart. "Who'd believe me anyhow?"

A small curl of a smile shadowed Draco's lips and he nodded once more. "Thanks," he said quietly before letting his hand fall into his robe pocket and then he was gone, apparently having touched his portkey.

"I swear I taught him better manners," Narcissa muttered behind me, looking slightly ashamed under the burden of her mourning.

I nodded and smiled slightly, as much as I could given the situation. "He's just upset," I replied, excusing it away as something uncommon, when both of us knew it wasn't.

"He doesn't know the depth of his feelings for you yet," she noted and I paled, running my hand haphazardly through my hair.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Mrs. Malfoy," I muttered.

She just smiled sadly and nodded. "It's the big events that shape us, Harry, and words cannot relay my gratitude for what you have done for my son," she said mysteriously before smiling a little wider and pulled me into a gentle embrace. "Thank you, for being here today, I don't think Draco even realizes yet how much help you were. I'm sure when he does though; he'll be as appreciative as I am."

I shook my head and tried to banish the blush that colored my cheeks. "It was nothing, really," I muttered

She smiled once more, grazing her thumb lightly across my cheekbone in a very motherly gesture and disappeared with her own portkey.

I sighed heavily, ready to be rid of this place and reached for my own portkey. Once back at home I collapsed into my favorite armchair, wondering if I was emotionally exhausted enough for sleep to take me, but couldn't shake the wild horror in Draco's stormy eyes.

I wondered briefly if I would ever be able to think of anything else when the rain clouds moved over London, or if I would always simply see his eyes reflected in the sky.

Authors Note: So, this is the first chapter I've ever written that actually made me tear up. I'm not sure what that says, but I hope it's good. lol


	4. January 29th, 1999

Authors note: many thanks to my brilliant beta Robert (Ragnarok45) I love love love him and keep him very busy!! lol. Well, this chapter isn't quite as sad as the last, but it's not kittens and sunshine either.... (And if you haven't already seen, I began posting the first chapter of a new story I'm writing with Laurel (DreamingInColour) called A Series of Connecting the Dots... please check it out!)

**Chapter 4: January 29th, 1999**

Three weeks.

It didn't feel terribly significant when I said the words out loud. In my heart, it felt long – very long – as in 'my-fingers-trembled-when-I-looked-at-the-date-on-the-calendar' long. Despite my best efforts to move on, I couldn't seem to forget about that day at the prison.

Some might say it was normal not to be able to so easily forget and push past something as traumatic as witnessing the execution of your own father, but I assure you it's not normal. I'm a Malfoy, born and bred to be unemotional, uncaring, unforgiving and generally 'un' in every other sense of the word. My father – were he still coherent and in his body – would have been vastly displeased to learn that I had spent three weeks wallowing in self-pity and doubt. I was unable to eat because the very smell of food made my stomach churn, unable to sleep because, when I did, the silent screams of my father haunted me; unable to look upon my own mother's sullen face: it reminded me that she was all I had left in the entire world.

But then, in a sick and twisted way, that apparently wasn't true.

It should have been, and in the end my un-Malfoy-like behavior should have also ended along with my bout into depression, but it didn't. In addition to my mind and body rejecting everything I had been taught to think and feel, it also pulled images and ideas into my grasp that had never before existed. Hope lingered like a love-starved stalker at the edge of my vision and I wanted it gone, because with hope came crushed dreams and damaged souls. I'd had enough of seeing souls damaged to last me a lifetime.

The hope within itself was a silly and fragile thing as well and it all stemmed from those stupid green eyes. The worst part of it was that they were not stupid at all. They were bright and wise and far too kind to be focused on someone like me. I had no idea what compelled Potter to do what he did that day, but it seemed one in a string of things he'd done for me lately. What brought on this newfound habit of saving me, and whether it was from death, imprisonment or a lifetime of vivid nightmares, that was exactly what he was doing: saving me.

Was he trying to make me irrevocably indebted to him or was this just yet another confusing and mind-boggling Gryffindor trait? I seemed to be incapable of wrapping my head around the way those lions think; it's as if they exist in an entirely different world from the one I was bred into**.**

That was why I couldn't manage to get out of my spiraling anguish, because I was trapped inside a battle between confusion and Malfoy resolve and neither was winning. I'd seen neither hide nor hair of the reluctant hero since that afternoon on the rainy rock and, though my spirit was broken, I wasn't beyond demanding some answers.

It was that very notion that led me to the Ministry – just outside of Potter's office door – paused and deciding whether or not I should attempt to knock, barge in, or simply go back home to the fortress of solitude. In the end, Potter made the decision for me by opening the door as I was standing there like a stricken fool.

"Malfoy?" he asked, clearly not expecting me to be hovering in the corridor.

I swallowed thickly and nodded curtly, trying to put on my best carefree mask even though I knew it was already too late and he'd seen my torn demeanor. Silence stretched between us until I somehow managed to croak out the words "Can we talk?" without sounding completely uneven.

"Uh, sure," he answered after hesitating for longer than I thought possible and stepped aside to let me in his office and gestured toward the chair across from his desk.

It was less of an office and more of a cubicle with an actual door, or at least that's how it felt. The walls were gray; the floor was gray; the desk and chair were gray. In fact, the only color in the room was provided by Potter's emerald eyes. It made me wonder if the room felt horribly ill when its occupant left.

I shook my head at the offered seat, preferring to stand so that I had the option of fleeing at a moments notice. It was then that I noticed the familiar silver ring on Potter's finger; my heart began to beat faster – though, before that moment, I hadn't even suspected it possible.

The band had been one of two pieces of jewelry I wore at all times, the only other bauble was also a ring, though it was more ornate – containing the Malfoy crest – and would be passed to my heir just as it had been with me. The one I had given to Potter had been placed on my finger at birth and worn on the same finger – constantly adjusting its size automatically so that the fit was perfect – up until the moment I handed it off. I wondered if Potter even understood the significance of that ring? I was loathe to part with the trinket, as it was a heirloom passed through the Black lineage, but I needed something important to me to show that I was accepting of the debt between us. Even if it meant nothing to the Gryffindor, it meant something to me.

Even so, there was no way I could've resisted the opportunity of getting a rise out of the brunette: I could have placed the band on any of his fingers and it would have held the same sentiment, but at the time I found humor in watching Potter's face pale when I slid the band onto his ring finger, even if it was his right hand and not the marriage hand.

Now, seeing that it still adorned his finger made my stomach clench. I had fully expected him to remove it the very moment he was able. I'd seen it on his finger at the trial, but brushed it away as Potter knowing that he would see me that day. I myself often wore clothing or jewelry that people gave to me when I knew I was going to see them, but this meeting today was unexpected – just an average day in an average week – which indicated that he probably wore the ring more often than he didn't.

I wasn't sure what that snippet of information meant to me, but I knew it meant something.

"So what's on your mind, Malfoy?" Harry asked when it seemed clear I'd lost my tongue. It wasn't lost on me that he continued to call me by my surname. The fact stung me slightly, though I wasn't certain why; it wasn't as if I was calling him 'Harry', though in my mind I thought of him that way easily: as easily as I though of Narcissa as Mother.

"It's been three weeks," I whispered and Harry simply nodded.

"How are you?" he asked as if he were my best mate. His eyes radiated with concern, and that – for some twisted reason – seemed to make me angry.

"I'm terrible. You've not said a word to me: no owls, no floo calls; nothing! I _know_ you know where the Manor is, and yet still nothing!" I shouted, not understanding my own outburst as it happened. Dear Merlin, was I turning into a girl, or worse yet, a Hufflepuff?

"I-" Potter stammered, obviously taken aback but I cut him off with even more inane ramblings before I could seem to help myself, ignoring his attempt to get even that simple word in.

"No, I suppose you've been busy with your real friends and your girlfriend and your job!" I continued.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" he shouted back, suddenly on the defensive. Anger flashed dangerously across his eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know why you were there in the first place, why you even bothered, what you bartered to get my charges dropped, and why I haven't seen you in three weeks," I demanded, knowing full well that I had no right to demand anything of him – however, Malfoy's care very little for technicalities.

"Would you sit down," he replied, so I did – though it was begrudgingly. He took a deep breath before leveling his gaze at me. "I went to the prison for moral support. I hadn't intended you even knowing I was there but then when I saw you –" he paused slightly, seeming to choke on his words, "I couldn't let you see it. I just couldn't. I bothered because it's what I would have done for any of my friends."

"Is that what we are now?" I asked tentatively, completely taken aback by his seemingly innocent slip and not sure what I wanted the answer to be. I'd never had a friend: not really. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Blaise, they were all just enamored with my status with the Dark Lord. I'd grown up with them but I never felt comfortable with them. I always knew that the smallest error could lose me my place as their leader; I wouldn't even need to be the one to make the mistake and they'd have been gone faster than you could say 'fake'.

Potter's infuriating answer was to simply shrug. "I suppose so, yeah."

"And the trial," I pressed seeing as though he was in an explanatory mood. "You told Kingsley that you'd made a deal that included my mother's and my release."

Harry cringed and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Malfoy. What's done is done."

"Don't give me that shite. If I'm going to owe you for something I'd like to at least know what that something was," I griped.

"You don't owe me for anything. I don't expect anything from you, Malfoy," he replied tersely.

"You're wearing the ring," I pointed out.

"Do you want it back?" he asked, but it wasn't lost on me that he made no move to take it off his finger.

"No," I responded immediately, even though the ghost of it still haunted my own finger from wearing it every day for over seventeen years and then suddenly finding it missing from its true place. "It's yours now, but it's a symbol of my debt to you."

"That's not what it is to me," Harry muttered, a bashful look on his face that made me grin slightly.

"What is it to you?" I asked, craving the knowledge he kept tucked deep in the recesses of his mind.

"I agreed to work here at the Ministry in exchange for your release," he replied abruptly shifting topics to something he must have been more comfortable answering.

"What?" I asked, taken off guard by the remark and sudden change of subject.

"I didn't want to work here, and after the war they offered me a position with the Aurors which I refused. I didn't want to be their poster boy; I didn't want them to be able to use my name to further their corruption. However, when I went to them to plead your innocence, they wouldn't accept my testimony unless I agreed to the original proposal," he sighed, and looked as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. "No one else knows that it wasn't my choice. I hate coming here every day: I hate the way they try to manipulate the public, but I would have hated it more to see you hauled away and given The Kiss."

It was far more thorough of an answer than I had expected from the usually timid Gryffindor, but it wasn't the answer I wanted to hear. "So you live in misery so that I get to live at all?" I asked, not understanding why Potter would agree to such an arrangement.

"It's not so bad as that," Harry reasoned. "And it's only for a few years."

"How many?" I asked.

"Five," he muttered. "Which is when Kingsley retires."

"It still seems like too much," I told him. "Unless," I added, letting the word hang in the air between us for him to pick up and do with as he would.

"Unless what?" he asked eyeing me with a look that could have been confusion, guilt or even embarrassment.

"Unless you have some hidden thing to gain with your arrangement," I offered.

"Like what?" he asked, clearly put off by the idea; I merely shrugged. Who was I to accuse Potter of trying to manipulate the system? He didn't really seem like the type, but I'd been wrong about him before.

"So what do friends do?" I asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject myself.

"What?" Harry asked, eyeing me unusually.

"If we're friends then shouldn't you have visited me after –" I began, but couldn't finish. Potter seemed to know what I meant.

"Should I have?" he asked carefully. "I didn't know if you'd want to see me."

"Did you want to see me?" I asked, not sure why I seemed to just turn to quivering mush when I was talking to Potter.

He nodded and gave me a weak smile. "I was worried about you."

"I'm resilient," I informed him. I didn't want him to feel somehow obligated to check up on me, but all he said was a simple 'I know' and then when both smiled awkwardly at one another until I got up.

"So, then friends?" I asked, unsure if that was actually the conclusion we had come to.

"Friends," Potter confirmed with a nod and a gentle smile.

"Well, I suppose that's settled then," I muttered and offered my hand to the same boy who snubbed it several years before. This time he accepted it without hesitation; however, I couldn't help but note the quiet trepidation that lingered in his usually bright gaze. Was he put off by the idea of befriending me or was it something else that shadowed his eyes? Perhaps he also felt the inexplicable pull that I did when I touched him, and with nothing in the way to distract me away from it the feeling seemed even stronger.

"Well, there is one more thing, something that's rather important," he told me firmly.

"What's that?" I asked, wondering if I should be worried.

"My friends all call me 'Harry'," he replied.

"Harry," I repeated, grimacing slightly at the feel of the word in my mouth. Sure, I thought of him by his given name occasionally, but I never uttered the word out loud. It was rather sobering. "Well, then I suppose you best be calling me 'Draco'," I offered in return and he grinned across at me.

"I-I should probably get back to work," he stammered, but didn't release my grip.

"But I'll see you?" I asked, not willing to be the first to pull away either.

I'm not even sure what happened then, or how it happened as it was all sort of a blur. Harry was moving forward, and then like the graceful Gryffindor he was, he began falling. Instinctually, I reached out to grab him, but his ankle wrapped around mine and we both went toppling to the thinly carpeted floor. The force of the fall knocked the wind out of me, but I ended up safely cushioned on top of Potter's weight.

We laughed for nearly a full minute, neither of us making a move to get up, but as the chuckling ceased, it seemed we both simultaneously noticed our compromising situation. All at once, I realized that our faces were only inches apart and I could feel his body responding to me, as I was sure he could feel mine. Suddenly I was wanting for air and I could only think of one way to get it.

"Harry?" I asked, my voice a nearly inaudible whisper.

"Hmm?" he breathed in response.

"Harry, do friends kiss?" I asked, not sure where the words came from, but it was too late, they were out there for Harry to poke fun off or scoff at as he chose. Gooseflesh covered my arms as I waited for whatever insults he might hurl, but none came. Instead he simply stared at me with those hooded green eyes, his thick ebony lashes drooping seductively as if daring me to do it.

So I did.

It was just a chaste brush of lips at first, hardly even worthy of a relative, let alone a lover, but Harry whimpered at the touch and it spurned me onward until I could taste the very core of him. A deep ache seemed to erupt through my entire being and I swiftly realized that there was no possible way to fill the void within me. It was as if the more I took from his swollen lips, the more I wanted, leaving me completely unquenchable.

Sweetness filled my mouth as Harry's innate flavors mingled with my own, but just as I began to notice the sugar, another layer would reveal itself followed by another. It was so different, so unexpected, so wrong, and that – coupled with the feel of Harry beneath me – made me rock my hips forward, catching us both in a violent gasp.

"Malfoy," he whispered urgently, pushing me backward and my heart broke at the formality of it. So we were already returning to that? Had I already messed up a relationship that had only begun to unfold? Had I read him wrongly?

I moved aside quickly and got to my feet while Harry looked on with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. I'm not sure what he would have said – if anything – because I simply bolted before he got a chance to try.

"I should go," I muttered and left, walking as quickly to the lift as I could manage without drawing too much attention. When I got inside the claustrophobic box my chest was heaving and my heart was racing.

How could I have fouled up so thoroughly when Harry was being so nice? What was I even doing in the first place? I must have lost my mind thinking that it would be a good idea to kiss someone like him. He was straight – engaged, even – and I was straight; at least, I had thought so before I had felt the sudden urge to kiss Potter.

My whole body shook with anger, mostly at myself for being a naïve idiot, but partially at Harry for refusing me. Who did he think he was? Did he think he was better than me? But then, of course he did, and he'd be right. He's Harry bloody Potter, and who was I? A lowly ex-Death Eater who was only alive because of him.

Taking deep breaths, I exited the lift and walked outside and to the nearest alley where I apparated back to the Manor gates. My eyes blurred behind tears that I refused to shed as I walked forward and grasped the cool iron and heaved it open.

"Are you just going to ignore me then?" a voice asked from nearby. I whirled around and saw Harry leaning on the adjacent stone column. I hadn't seen him in my haste to get inside and wasn't even sure how he had beaten me there, but all I could do was stare at him unblinkingly, knowing that the moment I closed my eyes, tears would fall; I was done humiliating myself in front of Potter. The only excuse I had for why it happened the first time was due to my irrational state of depression.

"Come to insult me, Potter? Well, let's have it then," I told him with a curt wave.

He merely shook his head and stepped closer, so close that I could feel the heat that radiated from his body. "We need to talk," he replied, grabbing my arm.

As soon as our flesh connected it was like wild fire scalding me and I looked at him, wondering what was going through his mind in that moment. He let go abruptly though, and just stared at me for a moment before stepping back. "I can't do this right now, but we need to talk, okay?"

I found myself just nodding weakly at his insistence, clearly unable to form a logical thought of my own. Then he was gone; just like that: a spin and a pop and no more Harry Potter. I let out a sigh that sounded more relieved than I felt and went inside, avoiding my mother's probing gaze and headed straight for my bedchamber: part of me wishing I had never left to start with.

Authors Note: O.o. First kiss, what does this mean? Not what you think I'm sure... (oh, and as always if you're reading this on a site that does not provide update alerts and you would like one, you can sign up for my yahoo group. Details on my profile)


	5. February 21st, 1999

Authors Note: For those of you who have yet to see, I have posted a few new things since last I updated this story. 1. Madame Scarlet's which will be a new multi-chapter story. 2. Let the Flames Begin which was a birthday two-shot for my lovely Laurel and 3. Wanting and Kneading another random two-shot. Anyhow, this story is developing much as I expected and I'm adoring it. I hope you all do too.

**Chapter 5: February 21st, 1999**

My mind had been a constant buzz for the past twenty-three days seven hours and thirty-eight minutes. That's how long it had been since Malfoy kissed me, or rather, since we kissed each other. I can hardly make him shoulder _all_ the blame when all he did was initiate it. It was my own bad manners to respond and even worse to enjoy it. What kind of person cheats on their fiancé with another man? A man who just a few weeks before was an enemy?

How did my life turn upside down? How did everything go from carefully planned into complete and utter upheaval?

It felt like an old silent movie when I played the memory back in my mind, it was soft and crackled at the edges and it caused my brain to hemorrhage if I dwelled on it for too long, though it was all I could seem to think about since. I was so conflicted about it that my skin began to crawl every time I even so much as _thought_ about visiting him. Deep down I knew I had to eventually, but the longer I went without seeing him the harder it was to rationalize seeing him at all.

What happened was wrong on so many levels I couldn't even name them all. I knew that I should just sit him down and explain that I wasn't attracted to him, but that was a lie. I felt compelled to touch him when he was near and if I was crazy enough to act on that compulsion I was rewarded with even more confusing feelings. Malfoy felt like raw electricity being pumped through my veins, like a cool drink of water when I'd been thirsty for days, like –well, the metaphors were fairly useless because the fact of it was, I was inexplicably drawn to Draco Malfoy and so help me, Merlin there was no way I was going to act on those feelings.

I couldn't, shouldn't and wouldn't let myself become besotted with the angelic boy. I also would try and refrain from thinking of him as angelic, and if I did, he'd be the angel of death. For all intents and purposes, Malfoy symbolized the end of things. If I were to react to the new yearnings erupting inside of me it would be the end of my relationship with Ginny, the end of my friendship with Ron and Hermione and loss of a family who had always given me their love, but even I knew that love had its conditions –it had to, it's not as though I was truly a Weasley after all. But nevertheless, how could I trade all that in for Malfoy? How could I even consider it? What would I even _be_ considering?

It was asinine really to even think of it as a possibility, even if it were the last item on the list; pursuing this twisted thing with Malfoy was simply out of the question. But even though I had decided that very thing a thousand times over I couldn't seem to stop thinking about his pillow soft lips or the heat that flowed between us at his touch. So much did I think about it that I was starting to infuriate my fiancé.

"Harry, are you even listening to a word I say?" she demanded and I pushed my plate of partially eaten crepes away from my body to prepare for the coming argument –we'd been having quite a few of those as of late.

"I'm sorry, Gin. I just have a lot on my mind," I admitted honestly, no need for her to know the exact thoughts that plagued me.

"Well so do I," she huffed indignantly. "I need your guest list, Harry. Have you even worked on it?"

So, it was back to this. "I don't see why you need it so early, and besides, who would even be on my list. All my friends are already accounted for on _your_ list." It was a bit embarrassing to think that my side of the aisle would be empty. Out of my two best friends, one was her brother and the other her maid of honor. I had no family to speak of and her side would be bursting with people. The guest list was already up to five hundred and the only people there for me were the media and Ministry officials. What I wouldn't give to just elope and get married on some deserted island with only Ron and Hermione to join us.

"I thought you might want to invite the Dursley's?" Ginny offered, clearly just feeling guilty for mongering all the available seats.

"When have I ever given you the impression that I would want to invite them to what is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives?" I asked, dumbfounded at her inconsiderate question. I could just imagine having to introduce the people who locked me in a cupboard for eleven years to the people I worked with and saw every day. I shuttered at the very thought of it.

"I just thought-" she began but I cut her off with a sharp shake of the head. "They won't be there, in fact I'd prefer they not even hear about it so that they can't decide to come for the sake of simply making me miserable."

"They can't be that bad, Harry," she chastised but changed the subject when I narrowed my eyes at her. "So no guest list from you?"

"No guest list," I agreed and she sighed while checking off a little box in the notebook she carried with her everywhere these days. It was her way of keeping things organized. She and Molly had stayed up for hours one evening putting it together with pictures of dress robes and ideas for food or other things she fancied.

"How about colors," she asked, not looking up from her notebook. "Have you given any thought to what colors you'd like things?"

"Erm, really? Colors?" I asked, completely confused. I'd never been to a wedding, so I was lost as to what I was supposed to do. Still, her question seemed silly.

She looked up for a moment but only to roll her eyes at me, which made me laugh. She wanted to know what colors we should make everything at our wedding and she thought _I_ was the one being ridiculous. Girls.

"Really Harry, do try and pay attention this time," she huffed. "There either needs to be a theme or a set of colors to coordinate things. Themes can get tacky, so we should do colors, just two or three of them."

"I suppose Gryffindor red and gold are out?" I asked, knowing that they were.

"If you're not going to take this seriously maybe I should just plan the whole thing myself," she scoffed and I winced. I wasn't trying to upset her, I just wanted to joke a bit and take some of the pressure off.

"If that's what you want," I offered, hoping to placate her. I really didn't care about most of this formal fluff, so her deciding exactly what she wanted seemed fine with me.

Clearly I was mistaken in my reasoning yet again and her face twisted into a mask of fury. "Do you even care?" she shouted. "Do you even want to marry me? Maybe we shouldn't be doing this at all if you're so disinterested!"

"I-I, Of course I want to get married," I stammered, and I did; I just didn't want all the pomp and circumstance that went along with it.

"Then you might want to start acting like it, Harry James Potter," she hissed and grabbed her notebook before heading toward the front door. "I'm late for my dress fitting," she announced.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I asked, but was only met with a frustrated scream and a slamming of the door as she left.

I sighed, wondering what I had said to irk her so badly that time and tried to take another bite of my breakfast only to find I was no longer hungry. It cost me all my self-control not to think about what Malfoy was having for breakfast.

--------------------------------------------

A graceful tawny owl started tapping at the glass and pulled me away from the dishes I was washing. Manual labor always calmed me. I enjoyed working with my hands and often did things around the house the 'muggle way', much to the amusement of my adopted family. With a wave of my wand the mundane chore continued while I went to the window to let the beautiful owl swoop inside. It really was a majestic bird, and even though the breed and coloring was all wrong it made my heart ache for my Hedwig. I hadn't found it in me to go shopping for a new owl and often I just used Ginny's –though my fingers would only be able to take so much more of that because her owl was a biter.

I'm not sure if it was the way the bird's beak looked like a sneer or they way it held its wings just so as it landed on the back of my dining room chair, but something about it made me know right away that it was Malfoy's owl. I pulled a treat out from the jar we kept by the window and fed Draco's owl as I petted its soft feathers. After a moment it offered me the small note it carried and I hesitantly took it from his claw.

I tucked it away into my trouser pocket hoping to find the will to ignore it outright, but the bird seemed displeased with that idea and cocked its head to the side as if urging me to open it now. I learned at an early age never to refuse the wishes of an owl, they got very testy when you did.

With trembling fingers I opened it to find the pretty cursive writing of Draco Malfoy. It both thrilled me and pained me all at once to read it, but read it I did and as my eyes skimmed over the page I sighed.

'Potter' it began and I immediately winced at the renewed formality even though it was my own doing that brought it back out. 'You said we needed to talk; yet you've failed to initiate anything, so I will. Meet me at the top of the Hogwarts Astronomy tower tonight at nine.' It was signed with a simple 'D. Malfoy' and after re-reading it I shoved it back into my pocket.

The thought of meeting up with Draco again made my legs feel wobbly. That kiss had been the most awkward and amazing thing I had ever felt, and that fact made me utterly sure that I couldn't meet Draco tonight.

As the bird stood there staring at me, I didn't know what to do, so I shook my head. "I'm not sending anything back with you."

Clearly that wasn't the answer Draco's owl was looking for and it squawked loudly while rustling its feathers in disgust. I reached out a tentative hand and stroked the bird's back, humming softly and calming its tantrum. "I don't know what to do, boy," I cooed, talking more to myself than the tawny bird.

"I want to go, Merlin knows I do. I want to look into his eyes again and just fall, but that's just it. I would fall, fast and hard and without a broom or magic to catch or slow me," I sighed and the bird nuzzled against my hand. "Can I give up and entire life for one person?"

The owl nodded, as crazy as it sounded I know he did, but I just shook my head. "No, I can't." With a light nibble the bird told me I was mistaken, but I didn't think I was. "It's wrong," I whispered and took a deep breath before writing a tiny note on the bottom of Draco's and sending it back with his bird; already missing the soft downy feel of it beneath my fingertips.

----------------------------------------------------------------

As the day progressed I felt the ache in my chest swell. Noon, two, four all passed and inched closer to the moment where I would need to decide between the unknown or the warm and comfortable. There could really be something there between Draco and I but was I brave enough to find out? Where had all my Gryffindor gusto gone?

I hadn't made up my mind for sure, as certain as my external dialogue was that I would be staying home that evening, my internal was screaming 'no, don't let this slip by!' Part of me knew I needed to just stay away, get past it and move on, but the rest of me wanted to know what this could be, what it could turn into.

With indecision looming over me I really didn't need the floo call where Ginny told me she would be staying at the burrow that night. It was as if she wanted me to leave her for Draco –would I do that? Would I throw it all away for a cheap grope and passionate kisses? No, but only because that's not what it was between us. All my life I knew that Draco had some part to play in my destiny, and I spent years thinking that it was because of Voldemort and the war. Could I have been mistaken? Could this be it? Could he be my –no. I refused to even think the word in reference to Draco Malfoy of all people. I was getting married to my schoolyard sweetie and all would be well, I just had to get that intoxicating kiss out of my mind.

Though that hardly explained why I looked down to find my broom in my hand. With a sigh I walked to the backyard, cast a quick disillusionment charm and took off into the sky, letting the wind through my hair clear away my muddled thoughts.

Flying was always exhilarating. Even if I hadn't been a natural at it I think I would have put forth the effort to be great. The chill of the crisp evening air on my face was the best feeling in the world. Even when my fingers grew numb and my clothing became moist from the clouds it was still better than anything I'd ever tried –even better than sex.

The colors of sunset played across my vision; vivid pinks and plum purples melted together with fiery orange and red to create the most beautiful blaze as the sun dipped behind the ocean and heralded my journey toward a new kind of fate than what was emblazed inside foggy crystal balls.

The flying did help to clear my mind, no longer did thoughts of soft lips and hot groins capture my attention, it was suddenly all about the landscape below and the endless sky above. It wasn't until I saw the familiar lake and castle looming in the distance that I realized the full weight of what I was doing and slowed my journey.

Is this what I wanted, what my body, mind and soul craved to be happy? Maybe. Was it what I needed?

Yes.

With this new sense of determination I swooped down to the lake, basking in the navy blue twilight and the stars reflected back over the lake. The water was freezing as I flew low enough to run my fingertips across its mirrored surface, making ripples that marred my triumphant reflection. I was going to do this. I was going to be bold and risk it all on a whim and a prayer, putting my heart in the hands of someone who was all but capable of crushing it.

It was nearly nine so I made my way back up, floating on the air like a graceful bird as I drove myself closer and closer to where Draco waited for me. I quickly scanned the tower and spotted him right away at the top. He was standing at the edge of the wide-open platform that the students used for stargazing –among other things- and he was staring off toward the south where he must have anticipated my arrival. It was only then that I realized my disillusionment charm was still in tact and he couldn't see me. In a split second I decided to wait and watch him for a moment.

He really was stunning. I hadn't ever noticed before –well I had, but not in the sense I noticed now. His brilliant blonde hair shined like a silver beacon in the moonlight and his face was so pale it was almost luminescent. The bright whites contrasting with his dark robes gave him a halo effect, bringing to mind those angelic qualities I couldn't seem to banish.

He didn't seem real.

With a deep breath I realized that I couldn't have been more right. It wasn't real. The thought of Draco being this perfectly matched soul mate for me was complete rubbish. The only reason he even spoke to me after the war was because he thought he owed me something. Was this just his way of paying me back? Here I was thinking of love and forever and it had only been a kiss, a jumbled mistaken kiss that no matter how fantastic it was, it was nothing more.

Draco was a fantasy and I was about to send my entire reality careening into oblivion because I was stupid enough to chase the mythical unicorn… well okay, something _actually _mythical then. Maybe I was secretly looking for an escape from the harsh realities crashing in on me, or maybe I needed to break someone's saintly expectations of me. An affair with Draco Malfoy would certainly achieve both, but I wouldn't take the easy way out of things. I wanted this life, I made these decisions I owned the outcome.

I rummaged in my pocket and found a knut and a small candy wrapper which I transfigured into a box and ribbon and with an aching heart I slipped the silver ring Draco had given me off my finger and placed it inside before diving in and positioning it carefully and silently on the ledge directly beside where the former Slytherin stood.

The movement caught his eye right away and he made a grab for me but it was too late, I was out of his reach, both literally and figuratively. "Potter?!" he called after me but I didn't answer because I couldn't. My words stuck in my throat so I just turned away and flew as fast as my broom would carry me back to London –back to real life.

Authors Note: I absolutely cherish an indecisive Harry. Next we'll get to see what a rejected Draco looks like. lol


	6. June 5th, 1999

Authors Note: Many thanks to my lovely beta Laurel, who is standing in on this story until Robert can have a moment to breathe. Miss you Robert!

**Chapter 6** **June 5th, 1999**

I was standing on the topmost platform of the Astronomy tower looking out over the vast sapphire sky. I always loved the night just after twilight. It wasn't pitch black and impossible to see as it became when it reached closer to the witching hour, there was light enough, by the moon and the recently descended sun, to cast the whole sky into a navy blue vista dotted with brilliant precious jewels. The moon was low and bright, coating the landscape with its silvery light and I kept my eyes locked on the South, where I expected Harry's arrival.

In my robe pocket was the note that I wrote to Harry earlier that morning, his messy reply written at the bottom of it. I must have read the scrawl a hundred times since Artimus, my owl, brought it back to me, though it was short enough that I had it memorized and the repeated reading of it was quite unnecessary.

At first I thought Artimus had gotten lost, or couldn't find his charge because the note appeared to be exactly what I had sent out, but I should have known better. Not only was Artimus the best and most brilliant tracker, but I should have anticipated Harry's lack of couth in not even bothering to fetch a new sheet of parchment for his own note. After weeks of no word one would think that I was justified a new scrap of paper at the very least.

And the note, those two little words that left me more confused than I had been at sending the letter at the beginning. 'I shouldn't.' What did that mean? Did it mean he would meet me or not? Not, can't or won't or 'not on your life, Malfoy' but 'shouldn't'. I supposed it wasn't an outright 'no', which should have heartened me, but it didn't.

Why could he not just be direct with me? I was certainly direct enough with him, I mean a kiss is a fairly direct way of saying 'I fancy you', or at least I had presumed so. And he kissed me back, so there had to be something, however small, that made him respond, even though it all went to hell shortly afterward. The promise to have a chat about it was obviously hollow, and there was no way I was going to stalk him in his office again, so I was left with this. A note asking him to meet me and a confusing response. Brilliant.

I was thinking about taking the note out of my pocket to look it over once more, as if the one hundred and second time would yield any new answers, when I heard a distinctive whoosh of air bearing down on me and I cursed my ignorance. Of course Harry was there already, probably laughing at me from afar as he waited to see how long I would linger there for him. But I was much more clever than he gave me credit for, because I knew the sound of a broom as it neared me and I knew who the flyer would be.

With more swiftness than I had ever exerted trying to catch the snitch I lunged for him, but still missed, the feel of soft fabric just barely grazing my fingertips as he flew out of range. I called after him but I already knew it was too late; I could hear his retreat and could feel the air all around me empty of his presence. I cursed the sky, screaming my solitude and frustration into the wind, and that was when I saw it.

The tiny haphazard box with the thin green ribbon; green like Slytherin, green like his eyes. My heart sped up as I reached to open it, wondering what was inside, curious about what Harry had bestowed upon me. With nimble fingers I tore off the ribbon, releasing it into the air and watched it float slowly to the ground and then I pulled off the box's lid.

"Draco," a soothing voice whispered. "Draco, my love."

"Hmm?" I asked, feeling suddenly sleepy and a bit disoriented. _Where was I?_

"Draco, sweetie. You're having a nightmare, wake up my angel," cooed the soft voice once more.

"Harry?" I asked groggily, trying to clear the sleep from my gaze.

"Oh dear, I thought you said you weren't having that dream anymore," my mother said, for I could now see her brilliant white hair falling in waves to the mattress. She was leaning over me and I was back in my room, no longer on the Astronomy tower roof, no longer screaming for Harry to come back, no longer looking down at the ring he had returned to me.

Mother was right, I had said that I had stopped having that nightmare, but it wasn't the truth. I just didn't want to continually worry her with my troubles. I didn't even know why I kept letting that idiot Gryffindor get to me, but as I stared at the ring that once grazed his finger and now sat upon mine again, I knew I couldn't get over it so easily as just brushing it aside. I wore the band that I had given him as a token of my commitment to an oath.

Like him or not I still owed the man my life and that was a debt I would need to repay sooner rather than later.

Not for the first time I began wondering who I knew that was skilled enough to put Potter in serious danger to allow me the chance to save his life. My mother was being her normally intuitive self, however, and stopped my thoughts with a sharp shake of her head. "You know that won't work, Draco. It is ancient magic that binds you to him. It cannot be tricked."

"I'd ask you how you always manage to do that, but I'm afraid of the answer," I told her bitterly. I knew she wasn't reading my mind because not even someone as soft and delicate as my mother could be gentle enough with the probing that I wouldn't feel it, but it was still spooky sometimes how well she knew me. But then, I suppose I am her son after all.

"Would you care for some breakfast now since you're up?" she asked with a warm smile but I shook my head. "Tea?"

"I think I can handle tea," I replied. My stomach was still churning after that nightmare and I didn't think piling food on top of it was the best idea.

As she got up, she paused for a moment and looked back down at me with a wide smile. "Oh, and one last thing. Happy birthday, sweetheart," she whispered and placed a small package on the bed before quickly striding from the room.

Birthday. I'd nearly forgotten. Well, I would have recalled eventually I'm sure, but with the vivid dream of that night –now more than three months ago; I hadn't had a moment to think about what today actually was. Today I turned nineteen, not a big landmark for wizards, but the very fact that I lived to see it after everything I've been through was rather impressive on its own.

Unlike previous years I hadn't made any plans to celebrate. It would just be my mother and I, perhaps a bit of shopping and a nice dinner. Usually we threw a grand party and invited lots of prestigious wizards that I didn't care about –or vice versa for that matter- and there would be food and wine and merriment to be had by all. However, given the circumstances of my father's recent passing and the fact that the whole of the wizarding world thought my mother and I were leeches on society, we thought it best to keep the event low key this year.

Never one to leave a present alone for too long, I tore into the gift she'd left and opened the thin red box underneath the glittering paper. An antique silver pocket watch was placed delicately inside soft white fabric and I gasped at its unmistakable opulence. It had been my father's and was inlayed with the Malfoy crest made from obsidian stones and rich glistening emeralds. The jewels reminded me of Harry's eyes but I tried to shove away the image of the messy haired boy as I opened the watch with a delicate creak.

A moving photo of my younger self with my parents smiling proudly behind me filled the space across from the whirring timepiece. The watch told time in every zone, automatically adjusting as one apparated back and forth between them. On the face of the watch were more than a dozen arms, all of which had their own unique purpose and I would be entertained for hours trying to figure them all out. Some of them were stagnant, waiting for a spell that might bring them to life; others I knew were compass-like, ready to point me in the direction of what I needed, while there were the normal three used for the mundane task of timekeeping.

It was a handsome heirloom and the thought of it belonging to me now and not my father made my eyes well up with unshed tears. The painful memory of that day in the prison filled my mind once more, along with it came the unbidden recollection of how much Potter had helped me that morning, how he had held me in a tight embrace and kept my eyes from faltering toward my father's remains. Why was everything so difficult; so conflicted? Why did Harry feel compelled to return my token in such an impersonal manner when everything else he'd done had been more personal and touching than I could have imagined possible?

I sighed and pulled myself abruptly from my state of despair. It was my birthday after all and I wasn't going to allow some Gryffindor git to ruin it from afar. After showering and quickly dressing, I made my way downstairs to the parlor where my mother was waiting with a cup of tea. I took a seat and poured my own cup; I was thankful that she allowed me to sip from it and relax before she lit in with a barrage of questions.

"So what would you like to do today, love?" she asked brightly. I knew she wanted to go shopping with me, but I wasn't sure if I was up to it today.

"I'm thinking lunch in the garden," I began.

"Oh I love that restaurant," she cooed.

"I actually meant our garden," I corrected and she blushed.

"Of course dear, whatever you like," she replied but I could tell I had disappointed her slightly.

"Though The Garden does make a delicious Yorkshire Pudding," I mused. "We could go there for lunch."

"Brilliant," she exclaimed. "I'll have Biddy make a reservation. Perhaps afterward we could go for a walk around Diagon Alley?" I smiled wearily and nodded. I would always indulge my mother even if I wasn't feeling up to the task myself. I couldn't very well sulk alone in my room all day.

"I loved the gift by the way," I offered, curious that she hadn't mentioned it.

"We'll pick you out something new while we're out today, but your Father would have given that to you this year so I thought it only appropriate," she whispered, clearly emotional and on the verge of crying. My mother was a strong woman and never liked crying in front of anyone, not even me –or perhaps especially not me- so I changed the subject.

"Maybe we could pop into Quality Quidditch and see if the new Orbital 2009 is in stock yet?" I suggested, knowing she wouldn't particularly care for that trip, but also knowing she would go along with the distraction.

"That sounds nice," she muttered with her best fake smile and got up. "I'll go get ready and meet you back down here in an hour."

"How about we meet at the restaurant?" I offered. "There's something I'd like to do quickly."

"Whatever you prefer, sweetheart," she replied, kissing me lightly on the forehead. She studied me for a brief moment before gliding upstairs and I wasted no time before apparating to my own destination.

Harry's flat had a bright and cheery exterior, warm stone dotted with flower boxes on every window and a spacious upper balcony with intricate wrought iron furniture. Two spiraling topiaries flanked the arched doorway and I just stood there, staring at the handle like a twat. I didn't know what I was doing there. Part of me hoped I might run into Potter on the sidewalk while my logical brain knew I was more likely to run into his other half since Harry would assuredly be at work.

I didn't want to admit how often I stood outside his flat just hoping for a glimpse of him through the window. I didn't want to talk to him –I was still far too angry over his blind dismissal to be able to form a coherent speech- I just wanted to see him. I'm not even sure at what point I had fallen in love with Harry Potter, but I had. Damn him to hell but the small fragment of genuine affection he bestowed upon me had me swooning like a twelve-year-old girl for the newest wizard boy band. It was both utterly humiliating and completely unavoidable since my mother had once wisely pointed out 'you can't choose who you love; love always chooses you'.

With a deep sigh and a shake of my head I apparated to Diagon Alley and made my way to the restaurant. The Garden was new to the area and widely popular already. It specialized in magical organic meals and had every housewife lined up to try their healthy alternatives to the usual lunch or dinner. Personally I found it ghastly. Give me rich sauces and warm buttered bread any day; I could always work off the calories playing Quidditch, or preferably something more exciting, but ever since Potter looked my way I had been unable to see myself in another wizard's bed.

It was already turning out to be a dreadful birthday when I walked up to the hostess and gave her my name. She didn't even glance down at the reservation list before telling me there was nothing available.

"I think you'll find 'Malfoy party of two' on that list, we called it in this morning," I noted with a tinge of annoyance.

Her sneer was worse than even my Father's but I remained unmoved until she pointed at the sign in front of her podium that read 'We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone'. The Malfoy's were blacklisted everywhere. I had already come across this situation so many times since our trial that I knew better than to argue, I simply turned around and walked back to the patio entrance.

I had never felt so defeated, not by the scrawny hostess with a chip on her shoulder, but the very thought of being rejected once again; a cherry to top of the wonderful year I'd been having so far. My life was riddled with failures now, too many to count, too few good deeds to balance them out. I just wanted to go home, but I couldn't let my mother experience the same treatment so I simply waited there by the low garden fence that surrounded the restaurants patio.

Her white blonde hair could have been spotted miles away, but then I suppose mine could have been too. She strolled right up to me but my gaze quickly left her when I saw who walked uncomfortably at her side.

"Happy Birthday, Malfoy," Harry offered softly, extending his hand for me to shake.

All I could do was look at it; more importantly the finger that my ring used to grace and eventually he let it fall back to his side. My mother's cross look wasn't lost on me, but I didn't care. I was still too hurt to speak to him.

"Mother, they don't have our reservation and are too full to seat us. I think we should go down to Madame Duvall's," I suggested, knowing the owner was a Slytherin and a friend of the family and we wouldn't be turned away there.

"Nonsense. Biddy assured me the reservation was made. Perhaps they just noted it wrong," she replied as she glided passed me to the hostess podium.

"Shit," I cursed and chased after her, sensing Harry follow. "Really Mother, it's quite alright. I'd rather have-" I began, but Harry cut me off.

"I should have a reservation," he announced. "I'd like to add them to mine."

The hostess' eyes went wide at the sudden appearance of Harry Potter and she scrambled to grab three menus. "Of course, right away, Sir," she replied with an adoring smile and waved for us to follow to the back.

The building resembled a giant greenhouse, massive windows with metal moldings coated in a thick sage patina. The tables were all birdbaths, while the seats resembled overturned flowerpots and a glimmering fountain sent water showering into a glass tiled pool in the center of the room. The hostess set up right next to the fountain and I sighed at the obvious way she was trying to impress Potter, even flirting with him as she left the menu.

"This was really unnecessary, Potter," I told him, still hoping to somehow squirm out of having to eat lunch with him.

"Stop being ungrateful, Draco," my mother chastised. "I'm off to the ladies room to wash my hands. Be nice," she warned. I hadn't told her everything; simply that Harry had given me the ring back. She had no idea that he just took off without a word after he was supposed to meet me so that we could discuss things –things like his impending marriage and our kiss.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, rounding on him the moment my mother was out of earshot.

"Do what?" he asked feigning innocence.

"I don't know, pick one," I hissed. "Showing up outside, getting us this table, giving me my ring back," I spat, brandishing the silver band on my finger.

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. "I ran into your mother at Gringotts and she told me it was your birthday and that she was on her way to meet you and insisted I tag along," he admitted.

"Brilliant," I muttered. "So my mother drags you down here kicking and screaming as a birthday present for me I suppose?"

"Look, Draco-" he started but I shook my head.

"Enough. Please leave, Potter," I told him firmly.

"I thought I was helping, I could tell that woman wasn't going to give you a table and I could also tell that you didn't want your mum to be turned away, I didn't think-"

"No!" I shouted. "You never do. I don't need your charity, Potter and I don't need you," I barked and shoved my chair away from the table so that I could get up and leave. I felt the warmth of his hand on mine, asking me without words not to storm away, but I shook him off. "You made your decision when you returned this ring without any explanation," I whispered deeply before exiting the restaurant. All eyes were on the exchange, but I didn't care. Let the hounds gossip, let them say whatever they like. No doubt it would do little to tarnish Potter's dazzling reputation and mine couldn't get too much worse.

As I walked the streets of Diagon Alley I wondered to myself why I had even bothered. How could I get myself so worked up over a nearly married man? My father's passing must have had even more of an effect on my mental state than I had suspected. A few gallant acts from a man who is known for his savior complex, a connective spark between us that I'm sure at least a dozen other people–including his fiancé- share with him, and a kiss that _I_ initiated; all that doesn't create a relationship. It creates an obsession, I wasn't falling in love with Potter I was continuing my unhealthy obsession with him, only in a twisted new way.

I needed to calm down and reevaluate my life's direction. Perhaps I had been so afraid of losing my last tether to my old life that I clung to something that didn't exist. Potter loved the Weasel-ette, that much was clear by his refusal and the returning of my ring, but I still had a debt to pay and that meant I couldn't cut him out of my life completely – and loathe as I was to admit it, I didn't want to.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Authors Note: Anyone want to go to lunch with Harry as Draco's stand in? hm?


	7. August 14th, 1999

Author's Note: Many thanks to both Laurel and Robert for beta-ing this chapter for me. I'm very pleased with how this story is unfolding and all the surprises it's bestowing upon me. I know everyone is anxious to see H & D come to terms with one another, but I can tell you it's a long time off still, so just buckle up and enjoy the ride and in the meantime I'm going to do a smidgen of attempting to redeem Ginny... We'll see how that goes...

Chapter 7 August 14th, 1999

My recent haircut showed off too much of my scar. The fringe was just shy of being long enough to cover it and, no matter how much I slicked or shoved at it; it no longer did the trick. Ginny had insisted on the haircut, though not even she had anticipated the barber would chop so much off. It wasn't bad looking, quite the contrary actually –for the first time in my life my hair seemed to actually behave in the current style, however, my hair had always been something to hide behind; not a fashion statement.

As I made a few minor adjustments to my plain black dress robes I scrutinized my reflection carefully in the mirror. What did others see in place of the disheveled orphan I always felt like? What did they see that was so worthy of being fawned over and sought after? Where in that reflection was something that could be admired or even lionized?

"Well don't you look handsome?" my future wife called from the doorway. When I turned around the sight took my breath away, Ginny was radiant. I had bought her a new gown for the special occasion and she wore the floor-length plum dress perfectly. Sparse beading on the bodice glittered in the light of the room and her matching dark lipstick made her lips look kissable, although I knew better than to try it because that would leave my face covered in purple smears.

"Thanks," I replied with a smile. "You look beautiful, Gin."

"All because of you," she cooed walking over to where I stood and to begin fiddling with my tie. "This haircut really suits you, Harry." I couldn't resist rolling my eyes and she caught it right away. "I'm serious," she insisted.

"I know, I just…" I began, but I always had a difficult time relating my fears and weaknesses to Gin. She thought the world of me and couldn't understand when I tried to explain that I wasn't the superhero she believed me to be.

"It's not what you're used to, but it will grow on you," she replied with a wink. Obviously she thought she had finished my sentence but in reality missed poorly. Sometimes I wondered if she knew me at all, but then she would probably leave me if she did.

"You're probably right," I fibbed. I would never get used to this haircut, but I would only need to keep it up until the wedding; after that Ginny would be less picky about my appearance. Besides, she was right in a roundabout way. The new style would grow on me, in fact it would keep on growing until it was back to the way I wanted it –a reasonable length. "So, do we really have to do this?" I whined, and not for the first time.

Tonight was the Ministry Induction Ball, where various diplomats and ambassadors came from all over the globe to wine and dine and dance the night away. It was a huge deal that England's Ministry got to host it this year and the Minister wanted me on his welcoming committee. Apparently I was Europe's biggest celebrity. Yay me, eh? I had hoped, for all it was worth, that once the dust settled and the war was put behind us, that they would find a new victim to torment, one who maybe enjoyed being in the spotlight, however, I was out of luck it seemed. Someone like Draco would have been the perfect Ministry poster boy; he loved attention.

Just thinking the other man's name made my heart clench involuntarily and I had to look away so that Ginny wouldn't see the regretful thoughts rolling through my eyes. The way we had left things last was harsh, and it hurt me that he hated me so much, but I decided it was for the best -hating me was probably the easier thing though; now things could get back to normal for both of us. He could find someone who was worthy of him and I could marry Ginny without a guilty conscience.

"We have to go," she chimed, and I remembered that I had been griping about the fact that we were attending this ridiculous party before my mind ventured toward other things. I shoved aside all Malfoy-related lines of thought and focused on my beautiful fiancé.

"We don't have to. I could get suddenly ill," I offered.

"I would give you a pepper-up potion and you'd be right as rain," she countered with a delicate smile.

"I could have a family emergency," I tried again, but she shook her head once more.

"Everyone is fine, most of them will even be there tonight," she replied, foiling my new excuse.

"I really hate these things, Gin," I moaned and she smoothed her palm along my jaw, trying to calm me.

"I know you do, Sweetness, but if you're ever going to make it to Minister one day, you'll need to have powerful allies," she reasoned.

I had nearly forgotten about 'our' ten-year plan. In Ginny's dreams she's Mrs. Minister and happily raising our tiny brood while I rule all of magical England. I didn't have the heart to tell her that the only part of that scenario I agreed with was the children. Though in all fairness, I doubt anyone would actually elect me Minister anyway, I was too much of a 'loose cannon' according to the _Daily Prophet_.

"Right," I muttered.

She just chuckled and shook her head. "It'll be okay, Harry. You'll feel better once you're there, and before you know it, it'll be over."

I gave her the best smile I could muster and nodded, offering my elbow so that I could escort her to the fireplace. She smiled warmly at me and I assured myself once more that I had made the right decision. Ginny loved me, she was warm and caring and she would always be there for me. I was doing the right thing by staying with her.

------------------------------------------------------------------

My dread at being the night's main event was lifted the instant I saw Hermione and Ron. Hermione looked lovely in a long baby blue gown, her abdomen slightly larger than the last time I had seen her; she was nearly seven months along with her and Ron's first child. "You're glowing, Mione," I told her honestly. One of the things I most looked forward to was seeing Ginny pregnant like that.

"If that's your way of saying I'm as large as the sun, then I'd have to agree," she teased. "I feel ridiculous in this dress."

"Well, you look beautiful," Ginny chimed in, rubbing Hermione's bump.

Ron beamed beside her, proudly showing off his beautiful, expecting wife. "Mum's been driving her a bit crazy. Ever since we announced it, she's been coming 'round the house trying to make Hermione rest and relax."

"I'm hardly far enough along for any of her attention yet," Hermione huffed. "In fact, I could be days away from labor and still not need to accept as much help or mothering as she's been forcing on me already."

"It can't be that bad," Harry joked. He could imagine Molly bustling around Hermione and Ron's house doing all the chores while fluffing up pillows for Hermione to rest against. The image made him a yearn a bit for someone to care about him so much though he knew if the time ever came he wouldn't relish an abundance of attention.

"She's trying to force me to take leave from work already," Hermione replied sourly. "I can't wait until your wedding gets closer so that you can take all the attention off of me."

"You'll have had the baby by then," Harry laughed.

"So you think she's going to stop at the pregnancy? Once this is over she'll just have a grandson to fuss over," Hermione pouted. "I'll never get a moment alone ever again will I?" she asked her husband who tried not to laugh as he shook his head.

"You said grandson!" I pointed out excitedly. We had all been waiting for the announcement of the baby's sex but the couple had been keeping it close to their chest.

"You're far too observant, Harry James Potter," she muttered. "I suppose it's spoiled now. It's a boy, and we're naming him Harry."

"_Really?_" we all asked in unison, Ron included.

"No, not really," she scoffed. "If I can't keep the baby's sex a secret, maybe I'll have better luck with the name."

"Maybe we should go ask what Molly would name him," I teased.

"Don't you dare," Hermione huffed in feigned annoyance. "Let's stop talking about babies, shall we? I get the feeling it's all I'll get to talk about for few years to come."

"Harry didn't want to come to the Gala tonight," Ginny announced, changing the subject on queue.

"Big surprise," Hermione replied with a wink. "You both look dashing though, quite the couple."

Ginny smiled widely and pulled me closer to her and a second later a blinding flash went off in my eyes before she whirled us around for a second picture to be taken. "A little warning next time?" I muttered, trying to quell the annoyance that was threatening to leak into my tone.

"I thought you saw them," she admitted guiltily with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Sorry. Two more up ahead."

This time I was ready for them and I pulled Hermione and Ron into the shots as well. After that we were done with the press photos for a while, but I wasn't relieved; I knew it only ceased to make room for the hard part to begin, the part of the night I was least looking forward to –the meet-n-greet. The Minister strode over to us looking slightly ominous in his black on black dress robes. He offered his hand and I shook it at once before Ginny and I were escorted into a gathered group of very wealthy-looking witches and wizards.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Senor Escobar Montoya, Minister for Spain, and his wife Angelica," Kingsley began. I shook their hands and smiled while Ginny complimented their attire before chattering away about our brief trip to Spain last fall. They were immediately taken with her and all I had to do was stand there at her side and nod in agreement. It was perfect.

After that I met with the Ministers for America, Russia and Australia before getting a moment alone with my fiancé. "Care to dance?" I asked, holding out my hand for her to take, which she did gladly.

As we spun around the dance floor, her head rested carefully on my shoulder and she sighed. "I'm sorry I've been a little nuts with the whole wedding thing. We should have just eloped."

I laughed and laced my arms tighter around her waist. "Too late now," I chimed. "I'm not going to be at the business end of your mother's wand for running off with you now. At least we know where you get your exuberance from though," I added, nodding my head toward Hermione who was watching us with a careful smile, and recalling her story of an overexcited Molly Weasley.

"She'll be your mother too soon enough," Ginny giggled in response.

"I'm looking forward to having a family," I told her honestly. Even if I wasn't terribly excited about the wedding I was very happy to be making Ron my brother officially and having a family all my own.

As the music died away she smiled up at me and we slowed our dancing. "I love you Harry Potter," she breathed, her cheeks flushed with happiness.

This is what it was about, her smiling face brightened my day and all that nonsense with Malfoy had just been cold feet about getting married. I had been afraid and he was there to give me an outlet for that fear. I was being tested, I was sure of it; the world was making sure that I was ready for marriage, ready for Ginny, and I passed the test.

"I love –Malfoy?" I blurted, having watched Draco walk into the room just over Ginny's shoulder. "What is he doing here?"

Ginny whirled around and followed my line of sight. There, gliding down the marble entrance stairs like an icy wraith was Draco Malfoy –and his date. My throat closed tightly and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Draco looked amazing clad in pewter gray robes with an emerald shirt peeking out from underneath. He was just as angelic as he had been when I saw him months before and I hated that fact –almost as much as I hated the streak of jealousy that flamed through me when I saw the gorgeous man on his arm.

"That's the French Minister, Luke Beauchamp," Hermione told me. I had missed her walking over to us as I stared at Malfoy and his date. "He's dreamy," she sighed, only somewhat joking.

The man was perfectly matched with Draco, tall dark and handsome, the French Minister complimented Draco's pale brilliance quite well –too well. Long black hair fell in perfect waves down the man's back, his robes –a royal blue inset with a gray that matched Draco's robes- draped exquisitely on his lithe form and his crystalline blue eyes practically glittered in the light of the ballroom. Women and men alike swooned at his feet and it hit me like a hex to the chest that they were heading right for us.

"You must be 'Arry Potter," the man remarked in a heavy accent as they grew close. "Drake 'as told me much about you."

I smiled while gritting my teeth and extended my hand to the French Minister. He shook it firmly and his hand completely enveloped mine. "Drake?" I asked Malfoy with a sharply raised eyebrow.

He merely shrugged at me, and if a shrug could be made to be elegant, Draco just achieved it. "It's just a little nickname he has for me, though this is the first time he's used it outside of the bedroom," Draco replied with a haughty smirk.

My blood boiled at the comment, even though I knew I shouldn't care, and he seemed quite pleased with my reaction. "Have you been dating long then?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"A couple weeks," he admitted.

"Drake is being modest," Luke interjected. "This is our one month anniversary."

"Congratulations, that's wonderful," I replied, trying not to choke on the words.

"Well, you and Ginevra seem so happy together. I wanted that for myself," Draco told me, his eyes boring into mine as if he could glean all my hopes, dreams and memories from just a look.

"Well, we are," I agreed, pulling Ginny in closer, maybe closer than needed. "Happy, I mean."

"Ow Harry, you're hurting me," Ginny gasped, trying to wiggle free of my tight grasp of her waist.

"Sorry," I muttered as I let her go. Draco watched me curiously and I tried to ignore him, but I found it impossible. His eyes caught me like a fly on the web of a very poisonous spider.

"So, Malfoy, what are you up to these days?" Hermione asked him. I was happy for the distraction, but leery that we'd apparently have to stay and chat awhile.

"This and that," he mused. "We just got back from a trip to Fiji and I've been spending quite a bit of time at Luke's villa in Bordeaux."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Ginny cooed and I rolled my eyes. I found it odd that my fiancé was being so cool around Malfoy -she abhorred his very existence after all- but I think the beautiful Frenchman had something to do with her suddenly docile nature.

"It does sound nice," Hermione agreed. "Is that where you got this ring?" she asked, pulling Malfoy's hand up and admiring the shiny silver bauble adorning it.

"This?" Draco asked, his eyes flicking up to me briefly. "No, this is a family heirloom. It's quite important to me. I wore it every day of my life until I gave it to someone that I cared for but unfortunately they recently returned it. Now, I doubt it will ever leave my finger again."

I bit sharply into my bottom lip at his words. I had no idea the ring had been so important to him; I just thought it was a nice piece of jewelry. His dig at me was so well placed that I barely paid attention to the fact that he lied about the rest. When Malfoy gave me that ring it wasn't because he cared about me, it was because he wanted to save his own skin. Still, Malfoy's covertly malicious behavior with my friends tonight made me realize just how much my rejection might have injured his ego.

"Interesting," Hermione mused, and her chocolate brown eyes gazed right at me as she said it.

"Well, we really must be going," Luke announced, having finally broken away from conversing with my fiancé about the beautiful vistas in the South of France. "It was very nice meeting you 'Arry, ze four of us must 'ave dinner together soon."

"Er, yeah," I muttered inelegantly and reluctantly shook his hand one last time.

"Oh, do you have to go?" Ginny asked; I had never heard her sound so smitten, it would have been amusing if she'd been swooning over someone besides Draco's boyfriend. Was there anyone who didn't love the man?

"I'm afraid we do, _ma petite_. There are plenty of other dignitaries vying for our affections," he noted, and it wasn't lost on me that his crystal blue eyes drifted to my face as he said it.

Ginny pouted until I pulled her back against me, and then she simply looked up at me guiltily. "I'll go get us some drinks," I offered, eager to be alone for a moment after that humiliating run-in with Draco.

She nodded, blushing and I left her alone with Hermione, letting her stare after the gorgeous Frenchman without me looming over her. I veered away from the beverage table and headed up to the balcony, I needed some fresh air and open space, that room –as large as it was- didn't feel big enough for both myself, Malfoy and his stunning foreign boyfriend; I was suffocating in there. It was unseasonably cool that night and the wind chilled me even through my thick robes, but no amount of cold would drive me back into the madness inside.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching my breath fog in the twilight. I wanted to crawl into a hole and bury myself forever. How could this be happening? I thought I was over my nonsensical obsession with Malfoy, but there he was, hand in hand with another bloke, and all I wanted to do was strangle the French arsehole and claim Draco as my own. It was irrational and if I weren't so worried about being overhead I would have screamed my frustration into the air right then and there.

"You had an affair with Draco Malfoy," a voice accused me firmly. I thought for a moment that my conscience was speaking to me aloud until I turned around to see a furious Hermione standing behind me.

"What? I most certainly did not," I balked. "Stop being a hormonal, crazy woman."

"Care to explain why you'd been wearing his ring for months?" she demanded.

"I- it's sort of a long story, but it's not what you're thinking," I stammered. It was exactly what she was thinking except that nothing had actually happened. Still, my heart had cheated on Ginny even if my body had not.

"Then tell me," she insisted. "If you're considering stepping out on Ginny then you need to tell her right now –before she gets even more vested in this relationship."

"I'm not. I just got mixed up, but nothing ever happened and nothing ever will," I assured her, because nothing ever can now that he's with Luke Fancypants Frenchman, though I didn't say that part to Hermione for fear of being beaten where I stood.

"Harry James Potter, so help me Merlin, if you're lying to me-" she began, but I promptly cut her off.

"I'm not lying. Nothing really happened, there was a life debt and then a kiss –a very small, inconsequential kiss- and some lingering glances and that ring, and his father's death and –that's not the point. The point is that whatever it was it's not happening anymore. We've both moved on and I couldn't be happier," I lied.

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. "Could have fooled me. I saw the way you two looked at each other. There's something still between you two, Harry," she replied softly.

I just sighed and sagged against the iron rail of the balcony's edge, wondering if it would just be easier if I jumped. "I made my choice," I told her at last. "And he's made his."

"Did you force it on him?" Hermione asked, moving behind me and awkwardly wrapping me into a hug, her swollen stomach pressing into my back.

"I can't talk about it right now," I whispered, choking on even those words. What use would it be to tell her that I thought I was in love with Draco Malfoy of all people? What would that accomplish, who could ever even believe it?

I felt her nod against my back and I was relieved that my best friend wouldn't push the envelope and make me spill; though I also knew she would require it sooner or later. At least I had bought myself some time to gather my thoughts.

"I should go back inside," I muttered.

"Don't forget to pick up drinks for you both on the way back in," she reminded me, ever the helpful friend, and I knew, if I needed it, Hermione would even help me break Ginny's heart. With a sigh and a nod I went back into the stuffy room, and, by way of the beverage table, I grabbed two glasses of punch and made my way to Ginny.

"Do you think we can go soon?" I asked.

"Sure," she replied quietly. "I think we've made enough of a spectacle of ourselves for one night."

For a moment I thought she suspected the same as Hermione, but her eyes were still warm and loving with no indication of Weasley temper on the rise. "Let's get out of here then," I told her and we made our way through the crowd, thankfully not bumping into any blondes or their French boyfriends on the way out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: I don't think I redeemed her but is she even a little less repulsive than before? And how about out newcomer, Mr. French Fancypants? What do we think of him?


	8. October 31st, 1999

Author's Note: Many thanks to my beta, Laurel for her work on this story. I'm pleased to note that I've been a tad enthralled with it as of late and I'm writing quite a bit for it now.

Chapter 8 October 31st, 1999

I always found Halloween to be a dreadfully dull holiday. Even as a child I was forced to remain indoors while Muggle children got to dress up in ridiculous costumes and beg for sweets from strangers –I feel I got the better end of that deal. Some wizarding families would participate in such festivities, while others celebrated Samhain instead, which was another event that I was happy not to be forced into; something about throwing the bones of dead animals into a fire pit never really appealed to me. This year Halloween fell on a Sunday, and since I now had a steadfast boyfriend in my sweet Minister Luke, I found more reasons to celebrate than I might have otherwise had.

We decided to meet at an intimate Italian restaurant in Muggle London called Passione. It was one of my favorite spots to eat and Luke was happy to oblige me even though he normally preferred to dine at more lavish restaurants. The place was not large or pretentious and the food was delicious, it reminded me of my frequent trips to the Amalfi Coast with my parents –back when my family and heart were still whole.

Even without the use of Ministry credentials we were seated quickly and as I absorbed the quaint view from our table I recalled that I had once daydreamed of taking Harry here on our first real date. Just the feel of the cozy, cottage-style setting coupled with the aroma of fresh herbs made me sure that Harry would love it. I even knew what I would have suggested he order if my daydream had ever come to fruition, but alas, as the weeks drew us nearer and nearer to the end of the year, the day of Harry's wedding to Ginevra fast approached. I needed to give up any hope I had that Harry would find his way to me instead of staying with the Weasley girl he was betrothed to.

"Drake, you 'zeem distracted," Luke mentioned lightly, his hand still covering my own as we sat down, trying to comfort me.

I shook my head and smiled softly at him. "Sorry, it won't happen again," I promised.

"Do you 'ave something you'd like to get off your chest?" he asked curiously, his blue eyes lighting up his face.

"I've been thinking of getting a job," I admitted, steering clear of the topic I was actually musing over when he asked. The name 'Harry Potter' was nearly a curse word these days. Despite my best efforts, apparently I still mentioned the man a great deal, and it became a sore spot for Luke. "I've begun preparing my resume and I'm thinking of sending it out next week to a few private firms that might not discriminate against my past."

Luke laughed, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes, and he shook his head in dismay. "Why bother?" he asked. "You don't need to work."

"No, I don't need to, but I _want_ to," I argued, my eyes narrowing slightly even though I tried desperately to hide my displeasure at being laughed at. "My life needs purpose. I don't want to laze around the Manor all day milking the Gringotts accounts."

His laughter died abruptly on his lips and he scrutinized me for a moment. "You are serious?" he asked.

"Quite," I barked, more petulantly than I had intended.

"Well, I can't say 'zat I understand. 'Ad the position of Minister not been forced upon me by my father, I would spend all my time lounging on my yacht," he teased but I knew enough about him, after dating the man for more than three months now, to know that he wasn't actually joking.

"You and I are different that way," I pointed out sharply. We were different in a lot of ways, although most of Luke's traits I found charming. He was very flamboyant most of the time, whereas I usually remained quiet unless prompted these days. I was still perfectly comfortable as the center of attention, but I didn't seek it out the way I once did, mostly because the attention I get now is negative. Luke was also uncommonly generous. He often, without even thinking, would give others what they needed. He always made hefty charitable donations, and made sure that no one around him was left wanting –including me.

He pursed his lips slightly at my biting comment and looked generally put off, so I rubbed my thumb gently against the inside of his palm and gave him a placating grin. "Let's not fight."

"Fair enough. No fighting," he conceded easily and returned my smile with a soft one of his own.

We started scanning the menu, although I already knew exactly what I was going to order. I almost always got the same dish when I came here -the veal. I normally wasn't a huge fan of it, but here it was prepared perfectly with a butter and sage sauce that always made my tongue sing. It was that dish I would have suggested Harry order because I could just imagine the look of bliss on his face when that first bite entered his mouth.

"You're 'zinking about 'im again, aren't you?" Luke asked me carefully; clearly trying to disguise whatever emotion he was feeling with a blank mask.

"What?" I asked distractedly. He then pointed to my hand, which was twisting the silver band I wore round and round my finger, while I looked over the menu.

"You always touch 'zat ring when you're 'zinking of 'im," Luke observed and I tried not to wince, even though I knew I already looked guilty enough as it was.

"I'm sorry," I told him honestly –and I was. I wished I could stop dwelling on what never was and start focusing on the present. I wished I could stop wanting Luke's eyes to be green instead of the ocean deep blue that they were, I wished his hair were darker, messier and shorter. I wished his forehead was adorned with a faded pink scar and that he could provide me with the same feather light feeling I had when I was with Harry. But more than anything I wished I could get Potter's face out of my mind altogether, which seemed impossible –especially since the man kept popping into my life.

"He's over there," I muttered, gesturing with a nod of my head to a table by the window. During my mental rant I happened to look over to see the focus of my turbulent thoughts walking into the restaurant with his fiancé on his arm. They hadn't noticed me there and I preferred to keep it that way. Of all the places in London, why did he have to show up here?

Luke turned and looked for himself, watching as the waitress who had just given us our menus handed the same to Harry and Ginevra. "Did you plan 'zis?" he hissed after turning back to face me.

"No," I balked. "The last thing I want is to see Harry Potter," I continued, but it wasn't quite true. I did want to see Harry, just on a happy little date with the Weasel girl.

"'Why won't you just tell me 'ze truth about you two?" he asked, looking more hurt than I wanted to admit responsibility for.

"There is nothing to tell. We were enemies in school, I thought we became friends afterward, but I was mistaken," I replied vaguely and sighed to demonstrate how much I didn't want to discuss this. It cost me a lot to speak aloud about my affections for Harry, so I tried to avoid it outright and give minimal effort when I was forced on the subject.

"Fine," he scoffed. "If you won't tell me 'zen I will get it out of 'im instead."

"What!?" I exclaimed, hoping against hope he didn't mean what I thought he did, but before I could protest further Luke was catching the couple's attention with a wave and a very false smile.

""Arry, Ginevra," he called rudely across the room before striding over to their table. I simply slunk down in my own chair and tried to eavesdrop on their conversation without drawing too much attention to myself.

"Minister Beauchamp," Ginevra sighed dreamily, just as vacant as she had seemed the night of the Ministry Ball; I honestly couldn't tell what Harry saw in her.

"Please, call me Luke, I insist," he replied, lathering his charm on thickly. Luke always knew who he could work that way, which, to his credit, was nearly everyone. "I was 'oping you two might join us."

"Er, thanks Luke but were-" Harry began, stammering over his words as his emerald eyes darted back to me.

"We'd love to," Ginevra interrupted, ignoring Harry's discomfort in the overwhelming wash of delirium that Luke's charming smile often caused. With a snap of his fingers, my date had the staff add another small table to ours and before I could run and hide in the restroom Harry was sitting directly across from me with his fiancé.

"See, I said we should 'ave dinner together and 'ere we are," Luke mused when we all settled back in. I was furious with him and probably not hiding it well, but I cared less and less the more I sipped at my glass of wine.

"How have you been, Draco?" Harry asked me, his voice as soft as a cloud and his smile awkward and crooked, just like I liked it. But it didn't pacify me I was still angry -angry that Harry was here, angry that Luke had invited him over and angry that Ginevra existed at all- and who better to take it out on than the man who ruined my life?

"Great, just _great_," I bit out. "Luke and I had a lovely intimate date planned but clearly things change. They always do when Harry Potter's involved, right?"

Harry flinched as if I had physically slapped him and I felt momentarily guilty, but this was the _last _thing I needed tonight so if I had to endure it the least I could do was use this opportunity to get over Harry once and for all. He remained silent as I poured myself another glass of wine and waited.

"We can go," he offered eventually. "I really didn't mean to impose. Luke just-" he began, but I interrupted him.

"Yes, I suppose my _boyfriend_ is probably in need of company other than myself after spending the entire week with me at his beach home. We had the _best _time just lounging nude in the sand between hot love-making," I boasted unnecessarily.

Harry's mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes shot daggers at Luke before he reigned in his reaction to my mean-spirited words. I would be lying if I said his clearly jealous response to my relationship with Luke, both tonight as well as at the Ministry Ball, hadn't pleased me. Apparently it meant little to nothing to Harry, however, who quickly recovered and threw his arm around his fiancé's shoulders.

"So what brings you two 'ere tonight?" Luke asked the seemingly happy couple.

Harry paled slightly, his face falling and he pulled away from his fiancé to focus on his menu instead, which was apparently suddenly quite fascinating. "We're attempting to get Harry's mind off of something," Ginevra admitted when it was clear Harry wasn't answering. She shot him a pitying look but Harry didn't look up.

"Really?" Luke began jovially and he turned to wink at me. I realized he meant to pry, probably thinking that it had something to do with me, but in that same moment the significance of today's date struck me and I shook my head at him sharply. This was the anniversary of Harry's parents' untimely death and no doubt he'd rather mourn in private than be pulled out to dinner. How could his fiancé not realize that?

"Leave it," I hissed at my own date.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to fuel his interest and he pressed on. " What is it 'zat we're trying to avoid, eh?" he asked boldly. "Poor work performance, cold feet about 'ze upcoming wedding, a sordid affair maybe?" he offered. Luke made it sound like a joke but I knew he was just trying to gauge Harry's reaction to his words.

Harry fell for it, too, though not in the way even I might expect. His eyes widened slightly and then in the next instant narrowed so sharply that I imagined the look Luke got in that moment may have rivaled the look Voldemort saw in his last seconds. "While you're prying into my life, perhaps you should do some legitimate research," Harry hissed at Luke's insensitive teasing. "Today would be the anniversary of my parents' death."

I was surprised he'd said it, not because I didn't think Harry was courageous enough or even because I thought he hadn't moved on from the tragedy of his parents' demise, but because I didn't think he would deem any of us worthy of that kind of intimate knowledge had we not already possessed it.

Luke looked suitably chagrined and began to apologize profusely to Harry, who simply held his hand up in indifference. "You're not required to know, but as you seem to be checking up on me I would have assumed you already did."

"I-" Luke began to protest, but Harry shook his head again.

"I don't like liars, Mr. Beauchamp," Harry noted sourly though I gathered that regardless of what Harry thought Luke was lying about, he still wouldn't like him. I think Luke gathered that as well. "I know you've been accessing my file at the Ministry, as an Auror I'm alerted to such things."

"I was merely curious," Luke placated, "about the famous Harry Potter. Forgive me."

"No, you were curious about what connection I have to Draco," Harry corrected and to my boyfriends' credit he actually smiled in return.

"Very perceptive, Mr. Potter. I must say I am intrigued by 'zat exact thing, especially the way you looked at one another at the ball awhile back," Luke replied and I wanted to curl in a hole and die. Instead I decided to occupy my mouth with more wine. "Would you care to enlighten me so 'zat I no longer feel 'ze need to pry?"

Ginevra looked on as if stuck in a dream; she looked so confused that I nearly felt sorry for her as she glanced back and forth between her fiancé and my date. Had she really no clue that she was about to marry a man that didn't even exist? She knew nothing about him. I poured us all another glass of wine and filled mine a little more than the others and sat back to wait for the tragedy of Shakespearean proportions that was about to take place right in front of me.

"I hated Draco all through school. Every minute he was there, taunting me or my friends," Harry began to explain, his eyes set on me instead of on my boyfriend. "He was an epic arse," he laughed, though the laughter was harsh, not that of teasing, but at the same time reverent as if the sour memories were mingled with fond ones. Ginevra swallowed thickly beside him, as if she'd never heard that particular sound from his lips before.

"And after 'zat?" Luke pried.

"After that he spouted off some tripe about owing me a blood debt for saving his life during the war. I didn't believe a word of it, but he said that didn't matter because he did." Harry was practically spitting the words out now, and his fiancé remained more and more left in the dark with every word he uttered; it was obvious she had heard none of this before. "I saved him and his mother from Azkaban, I went to his father's funeral, we spoke a time or two afterward and that's the extent of it."

The way Harry recalled things, so matter-of-fact and precise as if he were a Healer reading a stranger's chart, it made me livid. It filled me with so much hostility that I could hardly contain it –so I didn't. I refused to sit back and let Harry trivialize everything I felt, everything I was sure he felt too, but was just too much of a coward to do anything about it.

"You forgot about the kiss," I reminded him harshly, my anger and the amount of wine I had consumed suddenly getting the better of me. "There was that knock-your-socks-off, passionate kiss in your office, remember? Oh, and don't forget about _my_ ring that you wore right up until you gave it back," I added, waggling my finger and the shiny silver band that adorned it.

"Harry," Ginevra gasped, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears; it was obvious she recognized the ring and it shocked her. I felt like rubbish when she looked from her fiancé to me and then back again, her face holding so much pain I could hardly bear it, but then I'd felt that way for months so it was about time someone else had a turn at it. Every time I saw them together or even thought of their impending wedding my face probably looked like Ginevra's did in that moment. "Is it true?" she asked, her tone begging it to be a lie, pleading with Harry to tell her that Malfoy was only lying as usual, but instead Harry only nodded.

"One kiss," he admitted. "It was months ago, Gin. I would have told you but-"

"But it meant too much," I interjected even though my mind knew it was time to stop talking and start fading into the background so as not to get hexed by one or both of the people sitting across from me. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a wine blockade between my mouth and my brain.

"You wore that ring every day, you never took it off," she whispered, looking like she almost ignored my words altogether. Her eyes glared a hole through the finger Harry had worn the ring on. "And you lied to me about it. You wore _his_ ring everyday and you told me it was an old family heirloom!"

Her voice was a bit of a shriek now, but apparently it wasn't frightening enough to make me stop talking. "It was a family heirloom, it was _my_ family's heirloom."

"And _you_," she growled, rounding on me at last. "You knew he was engaged. You knew and you tried to steal him from me!" Her wand was out a moment later, no mind for the Muggles who had no idea what was going on, and in the next second it was aimed at my face. "I should kill you right here, Malfoy. I should end the blight you and your family have put on the world."

I just sat there, ready to take whatever she dished out. I knew I deserved it in a way. I did know Harry was to be married and I tried to take him as my own anyway, regardless of who else it might hurt. I never had a thought for Ginevra's feelings, only my own.

"Ginny, stop this right now," Harry hissed.

"You're defending him still?" she cried, her wand hand shaking furiously.

"I'm keeping you from doing something that you'll regret," he reasoned.

"I won't regret it," she snarled, her cheeks puffy and tracked with tears. Her hand steadied once more and her eyes leveled on me. I think I even saw her lips move, but the Expellarimus that Harry shouted was far more prominent in my mind and Ginny's wand went flying through the air and landed with a clatter on the floor. Luke picked it up and handed it wisely to Harry, while I sat and stared at Ginevra crumbling to the ground in despair. "You cheated on me," she was sobbing below the table ledge. "You lied and you cheated."

"Please, Gin. Let's just go home and talk about this," Harry pleaded, attempting to pull his fiancé from the floor of the restaurant. All eyes were still on us, half of them looking like they had stumbled upon a dinner show and the other half looking as if they were trying to find the nearest exit; I still wasn't sure which half to join.

"Don't you _dare_ touch me," she warned icily, yanking her arm out of Harry's grip and pulling herself up. She spared one angry glance at me before turning to Luke and smiling demurely –if not falsely, and then stormed out.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," I pleaded grabbing for his hand, but he pulled it deftly out of my reach.

"Enough, Draco," he hissed. "You didn't have to do any of that, but I'm glad that you did. You just proved that I made the right decision, after all. I tricked myself into thinking you had changed, that you were this amazing person to be held and cared for but you're still the same malicious prat that you were at Hogwarts." His eyes seemed to gleam with pain as he spoke and he took a deep shuddering breath and looked down at the finger that used to hold my ring before looking back up at me. "Goodbye, Draco," he said softly, his tone tinged with regret and left without another word.

My world crumbled in that moment just as deftly as I had made Ginevra's crumble just a moment before. I had fouled it all up, any opportunity to be a part of Harry's life was now gone, and I had no one to blame but myself.

"So 'zat's it?" Luke asked, pulling me out of my pity party. "You're so 'ung up on him over one shoddy kiss?"

"It wasn't shoddy!" I protested, louder than I would have had I not been intoxicated. "It was the best kiss I've ever had."

I had never admitted that out loud before and as I did I knew for a fact that it was true and that never, even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, would I ever forget the way Harry's lips felt on mine. Never would I find the kind of happiness I imagined I could have with the man who just walked out that door, not with Luke and not with anyone else. I was in love with Harry Potter and I had driven him irrevocably away.

"I see," Luke whispered, not angry or even upset; he simply seemed decided. "I shall leave you to your wallowing 'zen. I 'ad fun while it lasted Drake, but until you get over 'zat man you'll never 'ave room in your 'eart for another."

I sighed and wished I could feel something akin to regret at his words, but as I watched my boyfriend of the last three months walk out the door, all I could think of was how much more it hurt to watch Harry leaving me through the exact same path.

Author's Note: Poor boys. They are just so dim, eh?


	9. November 20th, 1999

Author's Note: Many thanks to my newest beta, Angel for her work on this chapter.

Chapter 9 November 20th, 1999

The pile of envelopes in front of me towered so high I thought it would topple over at any second. I felt as though with every wedding invitation I stuffed, sealed, and addressed, the pile of invitations waiting for my attention grew taller instead of shrinking. With a sigh I grabbed the next in the bunch, shoved it into an envelope and stamped it shut with the wax seal Ginny had provided me. After turning it over I scanned the guest list for the next recipient and began scribbling out the name and address. I didn't even know the person, or at least I couldn't put a face to the name, as I wrote it out and placed it in the owl bin. After I finished I was going to have to run the lot down the Ministry Owlery to have them shipped off to each recipient.

Ever since the catastrophe Halloween night, I had been doing what I could to help Ginny with the wedding preparations. I did my best to try and appease her and take as much off of her hands as I could. After she stormed out that night I followed her and eventually caught up with her at our flat. She was haphazardly stuffing clothing into an overnight bag and refused to look up at me when I entered the room.

"Gin," I called out, "I'm sorry. Draco's an arse, please don't leave like this."

"You're still calling him 'Draco'," she pointed out with a frown, not even pausing in her task. I hadn't even realized that I started using his first name. Part of me knew that I'd probably started doing so when I began thinking of him differently, but I hadn't realized I was even using it when discussing him with other people, although it's not as if I spoke of him a great deal. Only Hermione knew even a fraction of what had happened and I still wasn't very comfortable talking about him with her.

Saying his name aloud made it all real. It made me a cheater in truth, just like Ginny said. Saying his name like that confirmed that I was a bad person: a liar, a cheater, a manipulator. Whatever you wanted to call it, what I did was wrong.

Her face was still a mess with dried up tear tracks and runny makeup. I felt horrid that she had found out about my indiscretions in such a public and humiliating manner. I completely understood if she wanted to leave me over it but I at least wanted a chance to explain things.

"Ginny, I haven't spoken to him in months. I realized what I was doing was wrong and I corrected it. Please don't punish me now for something that happened ages ago," I pleaded.

"If I had known about it _then_, I would have punished you _then_," she muttered under her breath and then stopped short in her packing. "You know what I don't understand?" she started, but clearly it was a rhetorical question because she plowed ahead. "Why? Why Malfoy, why another guy at all? Are you gay, Harry?"

"I- er. No, I mean… I'm marrying _you_ aren't I?" I stammered. I didn't really know how to answer that question. I must have asked myself the very same thing a million times before, but it wasn't as if I was attracted to other men… just Malfoy. I wasn't attracted to him in the same way I was to Ginny either. With her it was soft and comfortable, we came and went as we pleased, we could just sit quietly for hours together and the silence would never get awkward. With Draco it was like a blistering heat traveled through me every moment he was near. I couldn't ever talk right and my whole body responded to him, even when we were arguing. It was vastly different, and after the war that was my childhood, followed by the _actual _war and death of so many friends and family, I wanted the peaceful quiet relationship I had with Ginny not some turbulent and hostile romance with Draco.

I knew where I stood with her, or at least I had before it all came crumbling down. I was well aware that I wasn't everything she thought I was, but at least I knew what she expected, with Draco I had no clue. What did he even want from me? If I took that leap and the fire fizzled out, what then? No, the fire was fear, fear of the unknown, fear of growing up and taking the next step into the rest of my life; but you don't grow old with the fire. If you touch the flames you'll only get burned.

"Wow," she laughed harshly, clearly not laughing at all, "that is _so_ convincing."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say. I kissed one man one time, nothing else. I've been with you for years, you tell me. Am I gay?" I asked, getting a little angry at her attitude towards me. She had every right to feel betrayed, but to pick me apart and mock me? That irked me.

"Yesterday I would have laughed at anyone who even suggested it, tonight I'm not so sure," she replied seriously, obviously hearing in my tone that I wouldn't stand for her teasing me.

I sighed and ran a hand through my already tousled hair. "What can I do?" I asked her. "Whether you leave me or not I'll do what I can to take away your pain, Gin. Regardless of your decision here I know that I hurt you and I owe you whatever explanation you want."

She sunk to the bed with a bout of fresh tears and shook her head. "I don't know what I want, Harry. I've been so absorbed in planning our wedding that I've apparently missed major clues that should have told me you were unhappy. Part of me wants to bail and not hear another word and part of me wants to hear you out and see if we can work through it."

"Which part is winning?" I asked with a soft smile to let her know I know I'd support her either way.

She returned the smile, though weakly and shrugged. "It's neck and neck at the moment. I think I need some time."

I nodded and folded my arms uncomfortably across my chest, unsure of what else to do with the dangling limbs. "I could leave," I offered.

"No, I think I'm just going to go and stay with mum for a bit. She always knows what to do," Ginny reasoned.

I winced slightly, knowing that my secrets would soon be anything but secret, though I couldn't begrudge Ginny being able to talk to her own mother, I just wish my dirty laundry wouldn't soon be passed amongst a large family of redheads. What would Ron say when he heard I had cheated on his sister with Draco Malfoy of all people?

"I'll let her know to keep it quiet," Ginny whispered, seemingly seeing my discomfort. "But you know her. I can't make any promises."

She left soon after that, flooing directly to the Burrow and left me to ponder what a mess I had made of things. I wanted to blame Draco for all of it, but I couldn't. Sure he was the one who blurted my secret for all of Muggle London to overhear, but it was me who created the disaster in the first place. I should have been clear with Draco that I only wanted friendship. I shouldn't have reciprocated that kiss, I should have been stronger and fought more diligently the growing affection I felt for him. I could have done a dozen things to avoid hurting Ginny the way I did.

---------------------------------------------------------

Ginny stayed at the Burrow for a week and miraculously I hadn't received a Howler from any of the Weasley family. At the end of that week, Ginny and I met up for lunch in Diagon Alley. She looked calm and collected and more importantly she looked as though she had made up her mind.

"So, mum reckons you were just having cold feet about the wedding," Ginny began after we'd gotten our menus. I only nodded because that was exactly what I had reasoned out as well. "She said a lot of men do careless and stupid things before they get married."

I chuckled softly and smiled. "Remind me to ask Arthur if he ever kissed another bloke before he married your mum."

"Don't you dare," she replied in mock horror, "and if you do just don't tell me. I really don't want to know if he did."

Relief washed over me as I realized Ginny was no longer angry with me. She went on to tell me about how her brother's shop was doing and about all the preparations that were going on at the Burrow to get ready for our big day. Suddenly she paused and stared at me curiously. "Do you still want this?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I replied, not understanding her question.

"Was your little rebellion with Malfoy a way out or was it a mistake?" she asked levelly.

"A mistake," I replied promptly, however, the words burned my tongue just as surely as Draco's fingers burned when they brushed my skin. I swallowed passed it though. Draco had shown his true colors at dinner that night, he showed me exactly what he thought of my life and how quickly he'd attempt to ruin it if he didn't get his way. Draco Malfoy was no longer an option but moving forward with Ginny was.

She sighed, seemingly relieved and we spent the rest of the afternoon together doing errands for our wedding. It was then that I offered to help more and was assigned with the task of invitations. It was that afternoon that I had apparently condemned my fingers to ache and be covered in a dozen or more thin paper cuts. It reminded me of being back in detention with Umbridge.

"I hear you're in need of some assistance," said a very welcome voice. I turned around and beamed at Hermione, who took a seat at the table right across from me. "I thought I could help you easier than I could help Ginny making centerpieces. I really need to stay sitting," she teased, rubbing a hand along her enormous belly. She was due any day now and looked every bit of it.

"Are you sure-" I began but she cut me off with a stern look.

"Harry James Potter don't you dare attempt to mother me. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime. Why do you think I'm here?" she quipped with annoyance.

"To relax with your best friend," I suggested and she smiled softly.

"And to get your side of the gossip. I heard about what happened at dinner the other night," she told me, not even bothering to sugarcoat it.

"Of course you did," I muttered. "It's all worked out now, so no worries."

"I heard that too, but I'm still curious what happened," she replied with a greedy smile.

"Draco's an arse, Ginny got upset, I felt like shite –yup, that about sums it up, I think," I skimmed over the situation with a roll of my eyes.

"So he really just told her everything?" Hermione asked with a slight frown.

"Yes he did. I thought I could trust him but I was wrong. I was wrong about everything when it came to Draco," I sighed. "I'm sure he and the French Minister are perfectly happy together while I had to fight to save my relationship."

"He and Luke split up," Hermione mused.

"What?" I replied with a frown. "How do you know?"

"I read in Witch Weekly last week that Minister Beauchamp is on the prowl for a serious partner. He's been given a wireless reality show in order to find his perfect man. They're holding auditions next month," she told me with a giggle.

"Sounds serious," I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "Poor, Draco," I muttered.

Hermione raised a delicate brown eyebrow and scrutinized my last comment. "Poor Draco?"

"I- I just mean he seemed so happy with Luke. I don't get it," I stammered. The fact of it was, for some reason the thought of Draco be dumped made me both miserable and ecstatic all at once. I wanted him to be happy and thinking of him moping around the manor after being left by his dream man made my heart ache for him, while at the same time I felt he deserved it for being such a prat. Not to mention the Fancy Pants French Minister couldn't have been as perfect as he seemed.

Hermione shook her head in dismay. "What Malfoy have you been seeing lately? Because the one I've spoken to is a broken shell of the man he used to be."

"How do you mean?" I asked, my forehead set into a deep frown.

"Every time I see him he's sulking. After you left the Ministry Gala all he did was hang on Luke's arm like a rag doll. He never had an opinion about anything, no snide comments to make, not even a peep. He spent the whole night looking over his shoulder as if trying to find someone," she mentioned, picking up an invitation and filling it out before putting it in the finished pile.

"Who do you think he was looking for?" I asked, afraid of her answer. She didn't answer though; she just rolled her eyes. I got the point clear enough either way –Draco had been searching for me, although it was probably just to rub it in again that he was fucking a gorgeous Frenchman.

"However, anytime you were around he seemed brighter, more like his old self," Hermione mused aloud.

"His old self was a prat, too," I reminded her.

"I meant the Draco you saved from Azkaban, not the one who used to call me a Mudblood," she corrected. "Did you know I saw him right after the trial? I had to do all the release paperwork and certificates of innocence and he went on and on about you like you were the best thing since toast and jam."

"No, you never told me that," I muttered, almost wishing she had, not that it would have changed anything.

"I think he was quite taken with you, Harry," she informed me lightly.

"Well, he sure has an odd way of showing it," I grumbled, thinking of his reckless outburst at the restaurant a few weeks back.

"When have you known Malfoy to be normal, when have you known that of _yourself_ for that matter?" she asked with a laugh.

"But that's what I want to be, Mione," I protested. "I just want a normal, quiet life."

"Is that why you're marrying Ginny?" she demanded, more briskly than before. "If so I think you're going to be very disappointed, Harry. You're Harry Potter and like it or not your life will _never_ be normal."

"I can try," I rebuked. "Isn't it worth trying for at least? I'll never have normal with Draco."

"What _would_ you have with Draco?" she asked, looking genuinely curious.

I sighed and remained quiet. The truth was I didn't know what a life with Draco would bring me, I didn't even know if there were any such thing as a 'life' with him. "I don't know," I answered at last. "Maybe nothing."

"Maybe everything," she countered and I shrugged in reply. "I guess you'll never know then."

"I guess not," I muttered, trying to sound confident and firm but it ended up sounding more torn than I would have liked.

She dropped her searching gaze back to the invitations and we worked on them in silence for a while, only the scratches of quill on parchments filling the air between us. It was comfortable there with Hermione, even though I knew she was trying to work something out about me, and even though I would prefer she just drop it, being around Hermione was always soothing, sort of like being with Ginny.

I had probably gone through another twenty envelopes when I looked up to see Hermione staring at me again. "What?" I asked.

"What was it like kissing Malfoy?" she asked quickly, a wide grin breaking out on her face.

"Hermione!" I scolded sharply. I knew I was blushing, I could feel the heat of it creep up my neck with the very mention of that kiss.

"What?" she grumbled. "Malfoy might be a git, but he's very good-looking. A girl can dream, can't she?"

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "If Ron knew," I teased, shaking my head.

"Well if you tell Ron that I was _thinking_ of kissing Malfoy, I'll tell him you actually did it!" she threatened in return.

"Evil woman," I grumbled with a smile.

"So tell me," she prompted.

I sighed in defeat. "I don't know. It just happened."

"Come on, Harry. Give a pregnant married woman some details. Was it sweet, was it rough, was it awkward?" she asked with a laugh.

"It was certainly awkward," I agreed, "but it was also soft and lingering like ice cream melting on your tongue. My lips tingled for hours afterward. It was… memorable," I offered at last.

"Hm, I always imagined Malfoy would be cold and distant with his affection," she mused aloud.

"Not at all," I corrected quickly. "He's like a smoldering fire, hot to the touch but you don't even realize it until it's too late."

"Sounds sort of perfect," Hermione whispered as if daydreaming about it.

"It was," I confirmed with an all too dreamy sigh. "I-I mean as perfect as a kiss with another man could be," I recovered briskly.

"Right," she replied with a soft sad smile, "of course."

"I love Ginny," I interjected, just trying to make that fact clear.

"I know you do, Harry," Hermione agreed. "You two are good together."

"Exactly," I consented with a nod.

"Though it sounds like you love Draco, too and I think the two of you might be even better together," she added and I choked a bit.

"I don't," I denied thoroughly. "I may have liked him –" I started, and added 'a lot' at Hermione's frown, "but I don't love him."

"Harry, you talk about him like he's a dream, like he's a poem you've written. You're smitten with the man," she replied harshly.

"I'm not," I repeated. "I'm perfectly happy with Ginny."

"Liar," Hermione growled. "Harry, don't you think I know you well enough by now to know when you're lying to me? Ginny is your safety net, she's the excuse you use not to live your life to its fullest."

"She is not. She's kind and pretty and loyal," I began.

"If that's all you want, you could buy a dog," Hermione muttered rudely.

"Hey!" I shouted. "When did you start hating Ginny?"

"I don't. I love Ginny, but I think she deserves someone who loves her properly and not someone who will always be wondering 'what if'. I love her like a sister… the same way you do," she whispered, as if she hated to say those words out loud.

I couldn't believe she had just said that, and my mind started reeling at the implications of it. Ginny was one of my best friends, sure, but was that all she was to me? "I can't hear this anymore," I sighed. "My wedding is in a few months, Mione. Why can't you just let me decide who I want to be with?"

Hermione shot me the most pitying look I had ever seen from her before letting her chin fall to her chest. "Okay," she muttered sadly. "I won't say another word about Malfoy."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly and gave her the biggest smile I could muster, which was actually pretty weak. "Thank you," I sighed.

She didn't reply, merely picked up another envelope and began writing out another address or two before standing up. There was still a huge pile of unfinished invitations and I nearly groaned aloud at the idea of having to finish them all by myself, but I couldn't force Hermione to stay.

"Listen, how about I take some of these and fill them out at home?" she offered. "I can work on them tonight and get them in the post tomorrow."

Relief filled me and I quickly nodded. "That would be fantastic, Mione."

She gave me a tight smile and took a stack of invitations and envelopes while I tore off a section of the guest list for her to take with her. "Be well, Harry," she told me, still soft and introspective and I gave her a loose hug before escorting her to the fireplace.

"Thanks, Mione," I said, "for everything, really," I added sincerely. Even though I didn't want to dwell on what I did or didn't feel for Draco, I still appreciated her concern. She disappeared into the glowing green flames and I slumped back into my chair, trying not to think of Hermione's words as I dove into the pile of frilly paper that loomed before me.

Author's Note: And the wedding's back on. Show of hands, who expected as much out of me?


	10. December 8th, 1999

Author's Note: Many thanks to my beta for this chapter, Angel. So now that we know Harry's still planning to get married, let's see what Draco has to say about it. (Also, I've changed my profile image to something you all might find more appropriate...

Chapter 10 December 8th, 1999

Of all the idiotic situations I had gotten myself into over the years –and there have been more than I could reasonably count on both hands and feet- falling in love with Harry Bloody Potter had been the most asinine by far. If repairing the vanishing cabinets in sixth year and letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts had been a ten on the moronic scale, then thinking –even for a second- that I could have a life with Potter was a forty-two.

My final dinner with Luke had left my life in even worse shambles than before. The French Minister had deftly ignored my Owls of apology, which I had somewhat expected, and it pained me that I couldn't bring myself to care more. I mostly sent them out of guilt and formality more than actually missing him, though I did miss him. I missed having someone other than my mother to talk to and I missed having someone to share a bed with that might keep my nightmares about Potter at bay –not that it often worked. Luke probably thought I was deeply disturbed based on the amount of times I woke up shouting in my sleep. Nonetheless, I had never been in love with Luke, which I knew meant more than simply being incompatible. The man was nearly a god; if I couldn't fall in love with him I was relatively screwed.

It appeared my best option at this point might just be to marry a woman that I got on with so that at the very least I could produce an heir. A lovely son or daughter might take my mind off of those emerald eyes that still haunted my waking and sleeping hours. Surely I would love my child more than I had fallen for Harry? Even that option didn't appeal much however, simply because I wasn't actually friendly with any women and I knew better than to mention the idea to Mother for fear she would try and find a match among the daughters of her Garden Club or one of the other elite organizations she still belonged to. Thankfully most of the women in those clubs were also Slytherin widows or could at least sympathize with our family's plight. I would hate it if she had become as shunned in the Wizarding world as I had been.

I wasn't sure the best way to move forward, so my life came to an abrupt halt while I worried over what path to take next. I wasn't at a fork in the road, in fact I wasn't certain you could even call what I currently stood upon a road at all, it was more of a winding path made of sharp rocks and thorny plants that kept pricking my feet. There was no fork at the end of my treacherous path; it was just a dead end like an enormous brick wall was erected right where I wanted to go and no passage leading around it. I was most certainly in a rut, dragging myself from bed only when I could no longer stand the brightness of the sun streaming through the curtains, eating the minimum amount at mealtime to keep Mother happy and then retiring to bed where I allowed the darkness to claim me once more.

Every night I felt as if ribbons of despair were working their way around my body, covering me, strangling me until I was left choking for air and release. I desperately wanted out of their hold but I had no way of achieving that so long as thoughts of Harry continued to occupy my mind. The look on his face –a harsh mixture of disappointment and regret- as he left the restaurant all those weeks ago was the current image that haunted my dreams. I couldn't believe I had caused that look; I couldn't fathom the audacity of what I had done. Why was I unable to bow out like a gentleman? Why did I feel the yearning to make Harry as unhappy as he'd made me? I had ruined his engagement and I couldn't blame it entirely on the wine, although that would have been a welcome excuse. Instead I knew it was simply my own twisted fear of having to live without him after he showed me that brief glimpse of what it might be like to have someone like Harry love me.

Fretting and pining would get me nowhere; I was well aware of this fact, but couldn't seem to make myself heed my own advice. Mother had given me a deadline for wallowing, informing me that she wouldn't stand for a sulking boy who puttered around the house as if he were a ghost, and today was the cut off for said behavior. I had no idea as to what her punishment for disobeying would be, but I wasn't foolish enough to find out. Not only was my mother a fiercely clever witch, but she was also my only friend in the world at the moment and I dared not risk her wrath either way.

I actually woke up at a reasonable hour, early enough to take tea and scones with Mother before she left to run errands. Afterward I took a long walk in the snowy gardens and realized it had been the first time I'd stepped foot outside the house in days, perhaps even weeks. The sun felt good on my exposed skin, even though most of me was bundled under several layers of clothing. Invigorated, I decided to go out for lunch, maybe even brave the public in order to choose a Christmas gift for Mother from one of the shops in Diagon Alley.

The café I selected, a little place called Beatroot, was actually just outside Diagon Alley in Muggle London. Lunch went smoothly and though I drew some attention in my billowing black robes, it was by far better than the attention I sometimes got in Wizarding establishments. No one even looked up when I entered the Leaky, and I was able to pass through the secret wall with ease. Behind it was the bustling energy I had been missing for weeks by cooping myself up in Malfoy Manor.

Men and women donning cloaks of every imaginable color filled the streets, flitting from one building to the next with natural ease. All the stores were decorated elaborately with festive ornaments; there seemed to be an evergreen in every window and glittering banners over entry doors announced the close proximity of the holidays. I normally loved Christmas, and part of me still did, but knowing that this year would hold only a somber mother and son under an expensive and sparkling tree dwarfed only by the vast halls we lived in made me feel empty. I missed my father, his booming laughter would fill every corridor over Christmas, he loved to watch mother and I open gifts and drink eggnog by the fire -it was one of the few times I could count on him being in a pleasant mood, otherwise he was rather unpredictable with his emotions –or lack thereof.

Just thinking of my father made my heart ache for him. Mother would most likely go to see his body, vacantly staring out of his cell door, at some point over the holiday but I couldn't bear to see it, not after Harry took so many pains to keep me from it at his funeral. Thinking of Harry had been the wrong thing to do when depression already licked at my gut. I wasn't sure who I missed most, Harry or my own Father.

I took a deep breath and continued along the street, nodding politely to people as they passed and trying to hold my calm against some of the sneers and dirty looks I was given in return. It wouldn't do to cause a scene on the first day I reemerged from my self-imposed seclusion. The first place I stopped was Madam Primpernelle's for a few of the items I knew would be of practical use for Mother. She favored their moisturizing potions and hair glossing serum, so I picked out a few of those as well as a lovely perfume that smelled of berries and African vanilla. My journey continued on to Arcturus' Apothecary where I selected a few of the Potions ingredients I'd been running low on.

Overall it was panning out to be a pleasant trip, as nice as it could have been given I was alone, shopping for my singular Christmas gift recipient and continuously scowled at by other shoppers. Still, it was winter, my favorite season, and I was out of the Manor. Baby steps, I suppose. By the end of the day I had picked out a new set of silk robes for Mother, a jeweled wand holster to match and a beautiful antique necklace in icy blue tones that I knew would compliment her eyes. It wasn't until I stopped in at Flourish & Blotts that my world spun back into that dark despondency.

There on the sidewalk, before I was even able to enter the store, was a rack of usually mundane magazines. Every single one of them, no exception, was covering the Potter-Weasley wedding in the coming spring. It was horrid; _Magical Architecture_ had a picture of the lopsided Burrow on the cover and an article on what improvements were being made to the home in preparation for the big day. _Muggle News Weekly_ had a four page spread on what additional wards would be put in place to keep the Muggle population in ignorance of the large event and even _Broom & Rider_ had an advertisement for the newest broom model –The Crimson HP- which was specifically designed as a gift for the groom and had a very limited number of units available.

News on the wedding was everywhere, but worst of all was _Witch Weekly_, which had a beaming Harry and Ginevra on the cover waving to an invisible audience. I nearly fell right there in the entry, suddenly bereft of air as I watched Harry smile, his green eyes twinkling, with his arm around his fiancé. I knew it was sick even as I did it, but some masochistic part of me picked up the periodical and quickly stuffed it into my coat pocket. I threw a sickle in the bin, more than enough to cover the cost of the flimsy magazine and Apparated home with a sharp pop.

I immediately sequestered myself in my private quarters and flipped through the glossy pages in a frenzy to locate the article. Information about the 'event of the century' could be seen on nearly every page but I saw that there was an interview with the groom and I desperately wanted to read it. I knew it was far too much to hope for to see him mention me in the plain black script, but part of me wanted to know that he still thought of me. I was sure Ginevra wouldn't have forgiven Harry for his trespasses, but it just went to show how charming Harry could be and how magnanimous his future wife apparently was. Perhaps they were better suited for one another than I had thought.

Page sixty-two gave me what I sought and I slumped further into my chair when I saw a picture of Harry looking tousled and offering a slightly uncomfortable smile. He looked so vulnerable that I wanted to reach into the article to pull him safely into my arms –but then he would probably feel equally uncomfortable there with me, so instead I just started to read.

_Harry James Potter, known all over the world for his part in ridding our citizens of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has officially announced the date for his impending marriage to one Ginevra Molly Weasley. We've known about their engagement for months and rumors recently circulated that the wedding had been canceled, but it appears all the speculation was false. _

_WW: Our readers would like to know, Mr. Potter, how did you manage to choose Miss Weasley from the hundreds of suitors I'm sure were lining outside your door?_

_HP: She's one of my best friends. It was a natural choice._

_WW: Is there any truth to the rumors that your fiancé called things off several weeks ago?_

_HP: Every couple fights. I'm sure something was just taken out of context._

_WW: What was the aforementioned fight about?_

_HP: That's quite personal. Just suffice it to say that everything is smoothed out and the wedding will go off without a hitch._

_WW: You sound very confident, are you really? No cold feet?_

_HP: Something very important happened a few weeks ago and I realized that there was no need to stress over my decision. I'm confident in my choice to marry Ginny, now more than ever._

_WW: Fair enough. Now let's talk details, who are you having cater the event?_

The interview droned on in the same manner for nearly three pages. The interviewer would ask a question about the wedding, most of which Harry couldn't answer, and then she would drum up more mundane questions to ask. I felt a chill at Harry's words, even in print they seemed to burrow straight through to my core, making me nauseated and slightly dizzy.

I sent Harry over the edge. Was it really possible? Could Harry have been teetering, unsure of marrying Ginny? But then of course in true Malfoy form, I come along and shove him in the wrong direction, straight into Ginevra's open arms. I was such an idiot. I was a loudmouth prat and I would pay for it the rest of my life.

"Tea, Master Draco," squeaked a small voice behind me, pulling me from berating myself. I turned to see Lugo, one of our House Elves standing in the doorway with a large silver tray.

"Thanks," I muttered. "You can put it over there," I added, gesturing to a small table near where I sat.

The House Elf did as instructed and hurried from the room. They had all been terrified of my Father's wrath, and apparently saw Lucius' same coldness when they looked upon me. I couldn't blame them really, he was ghastly to them all, but at the same time it gave me a pang of longing for my lost Father. I would relish even a heated argument with him now, anything really. He wasn't the best man, not even the best Father by any stretch of the term, but I loved him more dearly than I ever thought possible before the day they marched him to the front of that prison for his public execution. Now my father's death was closely associated in my mind with Harry's strong yet trembling hands, which only served to symbolize another kind of death for me.

With a sigh I pulled myself from the cozy chair I had been occupying, and padded over to the tea. I could use the fragrant warmth flowing down my throat to comfort my otherwise cold body. Not cold from the weather, though the temperature in the Manor was actually cooler than normal today, but cold from the emptiness I held within my body. Lying next to the sterling tea set was a stack of scrolls and parchments, all addressed to Lord Draco Malfoy. After I poured the tea I grabbed the stack of mail and went back to my chair, flipping through the documents distractedly. An invoice for my latest purchase at Elbadora Threads, an advert for that blasted broom I had seen on the cover of _Broom & Rider_ that afternoon and loads of other rubbish that I incinerated right off, all until I reached the end.

The last item was a pristine white envelope with lacy detail. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly and took a deep breath before letting it out with a shudder. It couldn't possibly be what I thought; Harry wouldn't be so insensitive would he? After a few minutes debate I slid my thumb beneath the seal and pulled out the translucent white card inside.

_You are invited to take part in the most happy occasion of the marriage between_

_Harry James Potter & Ginevra Molly Weasley._

_The ceremony will take place at the Burrow on March 19__th__ at Midnight, followed by the reception._

_Formal Wizarding Attire Required._

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even think straight enough to form the motions it would take to _begin_ breathing. What the hell was that man thinking sending me an invitation to his wedding? How vindictive, how spiteful, how infuriating! What did he intend to do, wave at me from the altar right before he kissed his bride? What was the arse playing at?

I screamed. I hadn't even known it was happening until my throat began to protest, but a long guttural cry escaped my lips as I shouted my fury and sorrow along with all the other confusing emotions I'd been bottling up, out into the stagnant air of my room. I'm not sure how long I screamed, but it must have been loud enough to send my Mother into a panic. I quieted when I saw her in the doorway looking frazzled and generally unwell.

"Draco, love, what's wrong?" she asked, moving at once to my side as she checked my forehead for fever.

I merely thrust the invitation into her hand and she skimmed it briefly before pulling me close. "I'm ever so sorry, dear," she cooed softly. "Perhaps there was a mistake. Your name may have made it to the guest list before he had an opportunity to delete it."

It was reasonable, but I didn't buy that for a moment. Harry knew how I felt about him; he knew that I wanted to be with him. I spitefully attempted to ruin his engagement at dinner that night and this was apparently how he returned the favor. An eye for an eye, heart for a heart. "I'm certain it was purposeful," I replied bitterly. I could feel it emanating from the card as if the magical signature on the item wanted to ensure I would receive it.

"I'll be fine," I sighed, knowing what she wanted to ask me but knew better to say aloud. "I just need to be alone for a moment."

"As you wish, Son. I'm always here if you need me," Narcissa replied easily. She was used to the solitary existence of the Manor, even before Father died he was distant and I was almost always in school, but I still felt guilty for sending her away so abruptly. I couldn't break down in front of her though; I couldn't let anyone see, not even my own mother, how torn to shreds I was over a tiny scrap of pretty parchment.

"Are you going?" she asked softly from the doorway.

"I can't," I sobbed, nearly choking from trying and failing to keep the emotion out of my voice. "I can't watch him marry her. I can't watch him marry anyone else."

Part of me wanted to go, wanted to show Potter a strong face, prove that he couldn't hurt me, but it would be a waste. My countenance was not so strong that I could hold my indifferent mask in place under his careful scrutiny. Father would consider that a failure, Mother would think I was stronger for it, and I didn't know whom to agree with. I so desperately wished that I could summon the icy exterior of Lucius Malfoy and waltz into that ceremony and applaud the bride and groom, but I knew I was far weaker than him. I would crumble and Potter would know that he had won.

"Life is unexpected, Son. I know this better than most, but I feel this isn't the end of your journey toward love, Draco," she assured me. I could only hope she was wrong. More than ever I just wanted to bottle myself up and keep everyone at a distance. If a broken heart felt this wretched then I wouldn't live through it happening a second time.

Author's Note: So, I know a few of you already have hunches as to where the invite came from, some are correct and others not so much, although I'm curious to hear what the rest of you think.


	11. March 11th, 2000

Author's Note: Thanks to Ashley for her brilliant beta skills. Also, thanks to everyone who reviews. I know I'm not as responsive to every single one as I used to be, but if someone has questions I can answer I try and do so, but I do read and enjoy every single one, so thanks again! My loyal readers are who keep me posting so frequently, and now for some more Drarry heartache.

Chapter 11 March 11th, 2000

I took one final look at my reflection and turned back to my fiancé, willing her to say something that might make me feel less guilty about Ron's plans for me tonight. Given the last few rocky months of our engagement, the last thing I wanted to do was jeopardize it further with drunken stripper debauchery. The Weasley men didn't really care what I wanted though, nor did they really care what their little sister had to say about it, but it wouldn't stop them from castrating me if things got out of hand. Not that they would –no I had learned my lesson with the whole Malfoy fiasco.

Ginny had reluctantly forgiven my transgressions, she wasn't even holding a grudge and I was thankful for that. I was ready to move ahead with my life as husband and father, I couldn't wait to start a family. In just a few short days I would be leaving my bachelorhood behind and celebrating my new life as a married man. But first I had to get through the festivities Ron had planned for me.

Ginny nodded approvingly of my attire; a retro green tee with a simple black blazer and dark-washed denims. "You'll have those strippers fawning all over you," she grumbled, clearly uncomfortable with my going but trying to mask it with a weak smile. "Just promise to behave. No picking up strange women."

"Promise," I replied easily, pecking her on the tip of her nose.

"And no strange men either," she added with a smirk.

"Any day now that's going to stop being funny," I noted with a roll of my eyes. "I'm waiting patiently for that day."

She smiled and chuckled warmly. "Maybe at some point after we're married I'll stop laughing about it. Until that wedding band is on your finger though, things are still negotiable. I'm not taking any chances."

"Noted," I told her with a laugh. "Though, with only a week left, I think your level of worry over my fidelity should be decreasing."

"It is," she assured before pressing me against the mirror and plying me with a deep kiss. I returned the kiss, but something was missing, something was always missing lately. "I love you, Harry," she whispered softly when we broke apart.

"Ready to go?!" Ron shouted from the Floo, startling us both. I shot my friend a withering glare, but Ron seemed unfazed as his disembodied head floated amongst the green flames.

"Yes," I replied after a moment. "I thought I was meeting you all at the Leaky."

"George didn't want to risk you bailing on us, so I've been sent to kidnap you," Ron explained.

"And a fine job you're doing of it so far," I teased.

"Would you just come on already? Hermione's waiting for Ginny to come over and I really don't want to be here when they start all their girlie shite," Ron whined.

I laughed while Ginny stuck her tongue out at her slightly older brother. "Be good," she warned me once more before I waved and slipped into the green flames to Ron's house. A wave of mild relief washed over me the moment I stepped into the adorable cottage Ron and Hermione had bought recently. Ron was sitting on the arm of the sofa, ignoring Hermione's scowl at his inappropriate seat selection, while his wife rocked their new baby girl. Elizabeth Rose was the most adorable niece I could have asked for and I wasted no time joining the pair on the couch where I could get a better view of the sleeping beauty.

"Do you think Gin's terribly upset that we can't go out?" Hermione worried aloud. "I just can't bring myself to leave her with a sitter yet."

"Ginny's fine. She's looking forward to spending time with you and the baby," I assured her. "This will be her before too long, after all."

"Jumping a little quickly aren't we?" Hermione asked. "You've not even said your vows yet."

"You know I've always wanted a family," I replied softly, running my finger across little baby Elizabeth's cheek.

"Maybe you should just enjoy being married for a little while first," she reasoned. "Once you have a baby it changes everything, Harry."

"I _want_ everything to change," I replied with a smile. I couldn't wait to hold my own child in my arms, nuzzling that soft skin, breathing in that powdery scent.

A sharp pop startled me and I looked up to find George and Charlie standing right in front of us with their hands placed on their hips as if annoyed. "What's keeping you?" Charlie asked.

"We thought maybe Harry kidnapped Ron instead of the other way around," George added.

"They have temporary baby fascination," Hermione informed them.

"Well, I'm in the mood for booby fascination," George replied with a grin that Hermione refused to return. "Let's get a move on, shall we?"

I groaned as Charlie pulled me to my feet but I followed dutifully as they led me outside into the still moist air from the afternoon showers we'd gotten that day. Our wedding was falling on the first day of spring and I wagered it would still be a bit chilly in Molly's garden, but I didn't mind. I liked the cold.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Wooooooo!!"

I rolled my eyes as I looked over to see George's face planted firmly in the middle of two enormous breasts, his face shaking back and forth between them as he hollered his delight. I never understood the fascination with large breasts, Ginny had a very small chest and it was more than enough for me.

"He's going to go deaf if he keeps letting her beat those things against his ears," I commented to Ron who seemed mesmerized by the woman twirling sensuously around the pole on stage. He just stared unblinkingly up at the scantily clad woman and I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to wipe drool from his chin before the night was over.

We had picked up a few more blokes at the Leaky, Dean, Seamus and one of the other Auror's in our office, Chaz McGilder, who were both equally entertained by the semi-nude women roiling their hips or bouncing on their laps.

"Aren't you having fun?" Ron asked, bringing my attention back to my vacant-stared friend.

"Sure," I answered with a shrug.

He studied me for a moment and didn't seem to like what he saw. "Guys, we need to get the Groom a lap dance!" Ron called over my shoulder to the other men.

Another cheer rang out from George's direction and Charlie pulled the closest girl toward me, practically shoving the woman onto my lap. "Really, this isn't necessary," I protested quickly.

"Nonsense, it's your bachelor party, Harry. You have to have at least one lap dance," Charlie argued.

"Gin's going to be livid," I reasoned.

"She'll never know," George countered as he and the rest of the guys all hovered around me and the leggy blonde grinding my lap.

"What's your name, sweetie?" the stripper asked.

"Harry," I replied with a blush. I could feel her lithe body against me but my own body wasn't responding. She was a lovely woman, but she wasn't my fiancée.

"Harry," she whispered seductively against my ear, "would you like to get a private room?"

"No!" I answered quickly. "No, sorry, you seem… nice, but no thanks."

"What, are you gay?" she quipped and the blush already coloring my cheeks spread down to flush my neck as well.

"No, I'm getting married next week," I replied with a bit more snap than I had intended. Who the hell did she think she was making assumptions about my orientation? "I love her. I just don't feel right doing this."

"I dance for plenty of engaged men and married men alike," she replied, as if that made her better than me. "At the very least they all get hard," she hissed rudely as she ran her hand against the flaccid cock hiding in my denims.

I might have shoved her away if not for Ron coming to my rescue, pulling the woman off of my lap and shoving her toward George. "I'm sure my brother would be keen on a private room. He's single."

The woman studied our untidy little group and shook her head. "Whatever," she muttered at last before pulling George by the hem of his jumper toward the other end of the club where a bouncer looked them over once and waved them behind a thick purple curtain.

"She was a bit bitchy, right?" Ron commented as he plopped into the chair next to me. "Sorry, mate. I thought you'd enjoy it."

I merely shrugged and tried to act as enthralled in the other stripping women dancing around the room as the other guys did. I thought the act had worked –taken some of the attention off of me, but I was mistaken.

"So, Gin told me about the Malfoy thing," Ron mentioned, just barely loud enough to be heard over the thrumming music.

I knew my eyes were probably bulging from my head but I couldn't seem to stop myself from looking both surprised and guilty. "She did?" I asked, hoping Ron got an edited version of what had occurred between the Slytherin and I.

"There isn't any truth to that is there? Gin was just blowing things out of proportion like she usually does, right?" he asked. "I mean… I know it was ages ago, but nothing really happened between you and Malfoy, right?"

I wanted desperately to be able to tell him that absolutely nothing happened and be telling the truth. How did I tell my best friend and older brother to the girl I was about to marry that one single kiss with another man had made me falter and rethink my entire life's plan? I just couldn't do that; I couldn't instill so much doubt in me as a potentially good husband to his little sister. I _did_ love Ginny and I would take excellent care of her for the rest of my life, I couldn't allow Ron to believe otherwise, especially not so close to the wedding. Things with Draco had just been a fiery passion that had fizzled out the moment I realized he hadn't changed. If Ron had asked me months ago, prior to the dinner that changed everything, I might not have so adamantly denied it, but as it stood Draco Malfoy was no longer a part of my life and certainly nothing for Ron to be concerned over.

"It was nothing," I assured him quietly. Ron didn't reply, in fact he didn't even acknowledge that I had spoken. Instead he merely stared at me as if trying to glean the entire truth about the situation from my eyes. Whatever he saw there must have satisfied him though because he eventually nodded and slapped my back roughly.

"Let's round up the guys and go get pissed," he suggested, getting up and calling the other guys over. I followed them out, eager to be rid of the horrid strip club, but mostly relieved that Ron had dropped the subject. I wouldn't have been able to bear telling Ron that I had kissed Malfoy, and that not only had I kissed him, but that those lips were the most tender and perfect lips I could ever imagine and kissing Draco Malfoy had been better than any kiss I'd shared with Ron's sister.

I didn't want either of us to end the night in St. Mungo's wearing a straight jacket, so I kept my mouth shut and so did he. All was well.

---------------------------------------------------------

Three pubs and nearly a dozen drinks later I was laughing and stumbling my way to the next destination. None of us were in any condition to Apparate, so we decided to walk to the pub next door to the one we had been in before.

"You're sucha lightweight," George slurred as he threw his arm around my shoulders.

"Me?" I replied, a little too loudly. "What 'bout you?"

"Sluts!" George shouted suddenly, pointing at two innocent women walking down the street. "Do either of you lovely ladies want to take a ride on the George Express?" he asked, pulling me over to the strangers with him. Both women simply rolled their eyes and continued walking, and I couldn't seem to stop my laughter.

"Rejected!" I yelled too close to his ear and he winced and pulled away.

"Yeah? Well so what?" he asked, still slurring slightly. "So what if I'm lonely all the time? So what if I miss Fred?"

My heart broke all over again at the mention of the twin's name. We rarely talked about him, even so many months later the hurt was still too fresh for any of us to bear. "I'm sorry," I whispered, sobering a bit at the thought of Fred and what George must go through everyday without his closest friend and brother.

"Pfft," he scoffed. "You've got it all, Mate. No reason for you to be sorry." The man was sounding bitter towards me, more so than I would have liked, but what could I say? I did have everything, I had a beautiful fiancé, great friends, a warm and loving adopted family. What else could I ask for?

Ron interrupted, pulling his brother over to Charlie so they could console him while leaving me alone to wander over to the next pub. All the other guys had dropped off and went home after the first pub and I was ready to call it a night, resolving to just wait for the Weasley brothers inside the small little tavern called 'Well Wishes'. I doubted they would take long, but just in case I took a seat at the bar and ordered a mineral water to try and sober up a bit.

After nearly gulping the entire glass down I still wasn't feeling much like myself until I looked across the bar and saw a shock of white blonde hair. "Draco," I whispered to myself and the man looked up at my words as if he'd heard me, which was impossible. The din in the pub would have prevented it even if he had been sitting right beside me, but he looked up all the same and those sharp gray eyes bored into mine for a split second before looking quickly back down at his pint.

I didn't know what compelled me over, or why I didn't just leave the pub right then and seek the Weasley brothers in the street outside, but I got up and strolled over to him, pausing when he looked confusedly up at me.

"How have you been?" I asked, and realized I wasn't nearly as sober as I should be for a conversation with this man.

He frowned and pulled the stool beside him out, gesturing for me to sit. "You're drunk," he observed. "Sit down before you fall down."

I hesitantly took the offered seat, but couldn't seem to stop staring at his lips. Without realizing my folly I reached out and ran my finger against those beckoning lips before he pulled away with a sharp shake of his head. "No more games," he demanded harshly.

"I was never playing games," I rebuked, my anger from his outburst the last time we saw one another returning. "I was fucking in lov-" I began, before snapping my mouth tightly shut. I was too far gone to be talking to Draco. Nearly telling the man that I had been in love with him was not a conversation I wanted to start with the angelic blonde.

He sat there looking dumbstruck, his gray eyes widening slightly. "What?" he pried. "What did you just say?"

"You were right. I'm pissed, I shouldn't be here talking to you," I groaned, moving to get up and stumbling. Draco caught me in his strong arms and for a moment I was reminded of the clumsiness that had led to our first kiss. I wanted desperately to feel the press of those smooth lips once more, but even in my beer-addled state I knew it was wrong.

Draco fished into his pocket and produced a thin glass vial, which he quickly uncorked and upended into my mouth. Sobriety dripped over me like a wet towel being wrung over my head; coating me in an icy bath. Several things came to the forefront of my mind in that moment. The proximity of Draco's face to mine was both seductive and frightening, the noise of the pub was suddenly making my head throb, and I wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and take Draco home with me. Sure my engagement would be over but I would finally be able to fulfill the most delicious fantasy I had ever dreamed; Draco Malfoy sprawled nude and pale against my sheets.

"Harry," Draco whispered and the sound of my name on his lips nearly made me close the gap between us, except another voice called my name at the same time.

Ron had stumbled into the pub and upon not seeing his friend right away, decided to call out for me instead of search for me in the crowd. I wasn't sure which I was most happy about, the fact that he hadn't seen me nearly snog Draco or the fact that he was probably too sloshed to remember any of it in the morning. Either way, seeing Ron followed in by his brothers, brought to mind the reason I was marrying Ginny. I wanted a family, and I would get an immediate one with the Weasleys, and eventually I would have my own with Ginny. Draco couldn't give me that, nor could I even ask it from someone who was probably just a heated fling.

"Over here," I called back, moving away from Draco and standing on my own before walking across the bar to meet Ron. "I think we should go home."

"Right," he huffed, turning around and leaving without a word to Malfoy, I wasn't even sure he had seen the Slytherin.

I glanced at the blonde one last time and gave him a sad smile before following the other men out. Once I got them each home and situated –the potion Draco had slipped me allowing me to sober up enough for Side-Apparition- I popped back to that pub, but I didn't go in this time.

It was late, and the pub was still packed full of patrons, but my eyes were for one alone. Draco still sat in the same place, looking as if he was still nursing the same pint, but this time I didn't whisper his name or call his attention to my presence lingering just outside the foggy glass.

I just wanted to take a moment to admire the man sitting inside, his beauty, his grace, his regal mannerisms. He seemed so out of place in the grubby bar, but I wasn't going to complain. Draco was warm and lovely and I knew right that moment exactly what I was missing by deciding to marry Ginny.

Hermione might have been right, Draco might be that spark for me, the one I just thought was a fairytale until I kissed the Slytherin prat and my world went topsy-turvy. Still, what good would it do to ruin all I had built when it wasn't clear to me what Draco even wanted? For all I knew he just fancied a shag with the Great Harry Potter and then call it a day, he certainly couldn't want the same things I did –that kind of compatibility I'd barely been able to find in Ginny.

Although, as I watched him -a silently brooding angel- I knew deep down that what Draco required from me was no shallow insignificant thing. We could be fireworks together, he and I… but fireworks always fizzle out eventually and fairytales don't come true.

I let my exhaling huff of breath fog the window further as I pulled my gaze from the unsuspecting blonde. The stony street was slick with old rainwater and my feet were unsteady as I walked away from that pub window, away from my Draco and back toward real life.

Author's Note: So the next chapter begins the wedding...


	12. March 18th, 2000

Author's Note: Hugs and thanks go out to my beta, Angel! So the wedding is broken into two chapters so that you get to see both boys' POV (it took a little creative finagling on my part since I refuse to have two POV's on the same day) and this is the first of those two chapters. Also, if you haven't already seen, I posted the first chapter of a new short story I'm working on called 'Plundered'. It's Pirate Drarry.

Chapter 12 March 18th, 2000

I'd been doing a lot of pacing lately, so much so that there was a worn trail in the ornate rug that decorated the sitting area of my bedchamber. It wasn't just my feet pacing either; my mind was flitting back and forth between two decisions as well. Go to the wedding or don't. It seemed like a simple enough question to everyone else, in fact hundreds if not thousands of witches and wizards would probably kill for the scrap of abused lacy parchment I clutched in my fist. But this was not an easy decision for me, no easy task at all.

For months I'd been weighing it carefully, as if I had a delicate golden scale in my mind. On the one side was the option of going, on the other the option of staying, and I was somewhere in the middle, looking back and forth between the two piles of information and emotions I'd thrown in each pot and noticing that they seemed level… perfectly so.

My initial answer to the invitation was going to be 'absolutely not'. I wouldn't be able to sit and watch the only person I'd ever loved outside my own flesh and blood commit his life to another. At that point it seemed easy, not to mention there was the added benefit of spiting the man who sent me the horrid little invite in the first place. Then my mind got to wondering if perhaps Harry had another motive in mind when he sent the request for my presence at his wedding.

Could it be possible that it wasn't done out of spite at all but the fact that he honestly and truly wanted me there? Based on our last real meeting at the restaurant I wouldn't have thought that very possible, but it wasn't as though Harry were the kind to hold a grudge, nor could I ever really see him wishing harm upon me, no matter how much I had inadvertently caused him. It even crossed my mind that perhaps someone else was responsible for the invitation, Harry's fiancé for instance, though I quickly ruled that out after a good bit of thought. If she was a clever witch, and I knew she was or else Harry wouldn't waste his time with her, she would want me as far away from her fiancé on their wedding day as possible. No, since it was an invitation and not a Portkey to Timbuktu, I felt fairly certain that Ginevra was in no way involved. I was curious whether or not she even knew of the delicate invitation I kept on my bedside table.

Still, no matter who sent it or the reason behind sending it, I couldn't muster the energy or the willpower to sit at that ceremony and not cause a scene. I knew perfectly well what I was and was not capable of and watching Harry take a lifelong vow of commitment, love and trust with _anyone_ else was not a thing I could force myself to do. I'd find it easier to digest live insects, or pour salt into raw open wounds or to rip my own heart from my chest –though surely forcing myself to watch Harry seal his vow with a kiss would do that very thing to me all on its own.

Christmas came and went while I brooded silently, keeping a brave and unburdened face for Mother. New Years and St. Valentines did the same. Every day from the moment I received that invitation was a blur of sheer nothingness until mid-March.

I'd gotten fairly used to drinking myself into oblivion. It was the only way I'd be certain to fall asleep anymore. The noise of the pub always filled my head with enough distractions so that Harry's face wouldn't occupy it so much, and the cool liquid slithering down my gullet calmed my nerves. It was the only time I fully realized what an arse I'd been.

It was ridiculous really, how could I have fallen in love with Harry bloody Potter after one stupid kiss? Luke had been right, I was being childish and putting too much importance into one small incident. It was one tiny, insignificant moment of my life and I was ruining the rest because of it. It's not as if I'd never kissed anyone before, it wasn't as if Harry was even the first _bloke_ I'd kissed, so then why was I blowing it vastly out of proportion?

Because it was amazing.

Not just amazing, that's a rubbish way to describe it. That kiss was like breathing air for the first time, it was like dancing under a bright starry sky, it was like flying the fastest and catching the snitch all wrapped into one brief press of lips. What was worse, it wasn't even the kiss. As perfect and life changing as that kiss had been all on its own, so many other things made my love for Harry burn deeper and truer than ever.

His ability to standup for my family and I after all we'd done to him –and at a huge cost to himself- the power that washed over me when he was near, the compassion he showed me when he arrived uninvited to my father's funeral… I couldn't seem to overlook those things. I couldn't make my eyes stop seeing his and I couldn't even make myself want to.

Drinking helped with that. A shot of Firewhiskey or two cleared it all right up. Suddenly I could look across the bar and see a grizzled old man nursing his own drink instead of a phantom image of Harry Potter staring back at me.

It was supposed to be an ordinary night when my world went sideways again. I was going to sit at my usual pub, get sloshed and then meander back to the Manor when I was certain my eyes would close the moment my head hit the pillow. Apparently it was also the night I was to have all my feelings for Harry renewed in one fell swoop.

One week until the fateful night that Harry would take Ginevra to be his lawful wedded wife and the pub was buzzing with the news. I drowned it easily enough even without the drinking, I had become quite used to it since the closer the famous wedding got, the less non-nuptial related things other people seemed to be talking about. As if that day was equally important to the rest of the wizarding population as it was to Harry and the Weasley girl. It wasn't until I felt a waft of cool air caress my face as if Harry's lips were being pressed directly into my cheek that I bothered to look up from my glass.

There he was, and for a moment I thought it was just a figment of my imagination once again, but he started to come over and I knew at once he was really there. He asked how I had been as if we were old buddies and it didn't take a genius to see that he was drunk. I noticed the Weasley boys outside and put two and two together. Harry was out celebrating his final weekend of singledom, and here I was, sitting right in his path.

I made him sit before he fell on his arse and he simply stared at me for a moment, but then those callused fingers –fingers that were so drastically different from my own soft hands- reached across and touched my lips. I hadn't had much to drink yet or surely my heart would have won over my common sense and pulled Harry into the kiss it seemed he was looking for. As it was, however, I shook him off. I was tired of the hot-cold games he was playing with me and I told him so.

He shouted at me then and his words filled my heart with pain and hope, which was nearly as painful all by itself. "I was never playing games. I was fucking in lov-"

Love. Had Harry's uninhibited mouth really nearly told me that he was in love with me? It couldn't be true, why would he marry someone else if he were in love with me? Unless I had foiled things more than I thought at the restaurant that night. I tried to get him to repeat his words, for all I knew he was trying to say that he was in love with Ginevra all along, or something equally devastating, but he refused to finish his sentence. 'Was' seemed to be the operative word anyhow. Even if he had been speaking about me it was in the past tense, so I sobered him up with a homemade potion I kept on me at all times these days, but even without the influence of alcohol it looked like he wanted to kiss me. Had it happened then I wouldn't have refused him the same way I had before, knowing he'd been three sheets to the wind and out of his bloody mind, but a sober Harry could take responsibility for his own actions.

If he had wanted me then he could have had me. I would have forgotten the last year of back and forth and set a course forward with Harry at my side, never looking back at our troubled past. But the Weasley family had better timing than me once again and Ron managed to show up that very moment to save Harry from himself. The life of a Death Eater's lover was no life for Harry Potter after all.

I spent the next few days agonizing over what I should do. Perhaps Harry sent me that invitation as a plea. Maybe some part of him –however small- didn't want to marry Ginevra, maybe that part of him wanted me to intercede and change his mind. Could I deny him that much after telling his fiancé he'd been unfaithful and trying to ruin his life?

I could, sure. I was a Malfoy, which meant deep down I was capable of all sorts of horrendous things, but would I? Would I leave Harry to live out a miserable life if there was anything I could do to stop it? Did I love him enough to interfere? Did I love him enough not to? Which would mean more to Harry?

It all came down to that in the end -what did Harry want? Above all things his happiness was paramount to me, which went against everything I was, everything I was bred to be, but the fact was, I loved Harry more than I loved myself. Should I go to Harry's wedding and try to win him one final time, or should I stay out of it and let him live his life –even if that meant I remained unhappy? I owed him a life debt, but it was far more than that now.

In the end,I decided there was only one real option.

-------------------------------------------------------------

My hands were clammy and nearly dripping with sweat as I approached the front door of the Burrow. The place was like nothing I remembered. The old crooked and shabby hut was now a gleaming monument to the Weasleys favor in the wizarding world, and probably Harry's fortune as well. Arthur had done well for himself after the war, and it appeared his first act as the new and improved Weasley patriarch was to fix up their family home. Instead of a shambling building there now stood a pristine homestead, three stories tall and graced with magic at every bolt and nut. I could feel the power of the home as I stood there, waiting for someone to answer. It was warded well against intruders, but I could feel the magic licking at the invitation I held, beckoning me inside.

It was dark, long after dinner and the real guests would be arriving shortly. The ceremony was set to begin just before midnight, so that Harry and Ginevra would be married within the first minutes of spring, or so I had read in an article earlier that week. It seemed like silly tripe to be but then I was rather bitter over the whole ordeal, so my opinion might not be entirely valuable.

Granger answered the door, and I was more relieved by that fact then I would have liked. She had remained kind and civil to me after the war and I could only imagine what explanation my serpent tongue would have given Ron, or worse, Ginevra for my presence there. "Malfoy," she greeted, as if she'd expected me, but I suppose she couldn't have known every person on the guest list and was probably treating every new arrival with the same candor.

"I need to see-" I began, but she cut me off with a quick yank on my arm as she dragged me through the house. There were paintings of familiar redheads hung on every wall and I nearly lost my nerve when I saw where the ceremony was to be held. Outside a large set of French doors was a glass solarium large enough to hold a Ministry ball inside. The room was filled with white chairs and draping fabrics and flowers were so rich in fragrance that I could smell them inside. It was beautiful, elaborate and far fancier than I imagined Harry's tastes were, but beautiful nonetheless. Perhaps I had no right here.

I hadn't been paying attention to where we were going, so when Granger stopped abruptly in front of a single white door I nearly ran into her. "He's in there," she whispered, shoving me at the entrance.

I didn't know what to say, why had Hermione willingly delivered me to Harry's doorstep? Wasn't the Weasley girl her friend? "I don't-" I began but I got no further. Hermione simply shook her head curtly and smoothed out her lavender bridesmaids gown.

"I love Harry," she told me simply. "He deserves to be happy."

My mouth gaped as the implications of her words hit home. She had sent the invitation; she was the one hoping I would swoop in to save the day. Not Harry, but his best friend. I didn't have time to process what that meant before she turned around to leave.

I nearly shouted after her but she turned and gave me an encouraging look. "Oh, and Draco, try not to let him mess it up this time," she warned before disappearing around the corner.

The door in front of me was a gleaming white and I couldn't stop staring at it. On the other side would be Harry, and he would be getting ready for his wedding. Even worse, he wouldn't be expecting me like I thought he might have been. Hermione being the culprit behind that wedding invitation had thrown me, and now I wasn't sure I should be doing this after all. Harry hadn't reached out for me to save him, perhaps he didn't _need_ saving. If I went in there I might be making his life worse, ruining his big day with my presence.

Before I could decide whether to go in or turn and leave, however, I heard the distinctive Weasley tone of Ron coming from further down the hall. Without thinking, I ducked into the room, leaning against the door to hear if he'd seen me and followed.

"I'm not ready yet, Ron," Harry called, and I turned to see the man standing in front of a gilded mirror adjusting his tie. He looked both a mess and the most handsome I had ever seen him all at the same time. His eyes flicked up to meet mine in the reflection and instantly widened upon seeing that it wasn't his redheaded friend who had burst in after all.

"I don't mean to intrude," I blurted, even though that was exactly what I had wanted –just not like this. I wanted to whisk in and save Harry from a lifetime of sadness from marrying the wrong person, but he didn't look very sad.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, not angry sounding, just surprised.

"Apparently I was invited," I replied, holding up the crushed and torn card I'd been distractedly mauling for weeks.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, his face twisted with confusion.

"I thought you sent it to me," I began, but I never got any further with my explanation. Harry's face erupted into heartfelt look of pain and he shook his head quickly.

"I would never do that," he rasped, grimacing at what he was probably imagining I looked like upon receiving the invite. "I've never wanted to hurt you."

"I know," I admitted weakly, hearing the unspoken 'but' in his words. He was getting married tonight regardless of what I did or said. Why bother holding myself back if he was already decided? I would never go after a married man, so if I was going to steal one last kiss from my one true love I had better make it quick. "I just needed to see you and tell you one last thing before you took the plunge."

"What's that?" he asked, moving ever closer to me as if drawn in by my desire for him. He looked so edible, as if his skin would be sweet to lick upon. I wanted him so badly, to have and to hold and to walk with down the aisle, but I would always be second fiddle to the Weasleys in Harry's mind and because of our recent indiscretions I couldn't even hope for friendship with the sexy Gryffindor once he was married.

The tuxedo he wore made him look paler than he actually was; at least I assumed it was the suit because Harry normally looked healthy and sun-kissed. His hair had grown out slightly and was probably holding more product than all of my mother's hair care implements combined. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't been sleeping and his posture was slightly slouching, but he was still the most beautiful person in the world.

Forgoing an answer made of menial words that Harry might choose to twist around, I just pulled him to me. My lips brushed his in the barest of touches and I could feel him shiver in response. There would be no misinterpreting my meaning tonight. Harry and I could talk around each other all evening and never think we're on the same point, but this, this connection I felt in my soul couldn't be denied.

When I saw that he wasn't going to pull away I ran my hands up his back and into his hair, staring at his wide green eyes the whole time. We kissed, and this time I didn't force myself onto his lips, I didn't even lean in, I just stood there and he pressed his lips to mine. It was undeniable bliss, sullied only by the knowledge that this was my last moment with him. His lips were soft, yet urgent, as if he knew that it was a goodbye kiss as well, as if he didn't want it to end either.

The first taste of his tongue sent my heart racing and my body trembled, begging for more, but all I could do was wrap myself around him and hold on as tightly as possible. I didn't want to let go –didn't want to give him up. Not now, not ever.

"I need you," I whispered when we stopped for breath. "Harry, I love-"

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice shouted from the doorway and we flew apart as if scalded. I turned to face the door, a blush no doubt already coloring my pale cheeks when I spied Weasley in the doorway, shutting the door violently behind him.

Harry shifted, almost imperceptibly in front of me, as if trying to hide me –or protect me. "Nothing is going on. I was just talking to Draco," Harry answered calmly. I had no idea how much Weasley had seen, clearly neither did Harry.

"You were snogging him," Ron growled. "You told me there was nothing to that rumor. You told me Gin was blowing things out of proportion."

"And she was," Harry argued.

"Clearly she didn't blow it out of proportion enough!" Ron shouted and I winced, trying to become invisible. The only thing worse than Weasley wrath upon your head is when you actually deserve it. I was fairly certain that attempting to break up a wedding by stealing the groom was one of those things Weasley would consider 'deserving'. "You're snogging the ferret when you're supposed to be marrying my sister in a few minutes. What is _wrong_ with you?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted, and he sounded genuinely conflicted. I felt like rubbish. I had done exactly what I had set out _not_ to do. I had been selfish, tried to claim Harry as my own when he rightfully belonged to another, I had confused him, hurt him –all because I was a greedy wanker.

"And you!" Ron spat, rounding on me at last. Harry made an obvious move then, getting directly in his friends path to block me from his anger. "What is he still doing here?" Ron asked Harry, his eyes widening at the fact that Harry was interceding on my behalf.

"It's not all his fault, Mate," Harry replied. "He was invited and he came to see me, and things got out of hand."

"Invited?! Who invited him?" Ron demanded, but Harry merely shrugged and I wasn't about to get Hermione into trouble by offering up her name as a scapegoat.

"It doesn't matter who invited him. All that matters is that if you have an issue, take it up with me. Just let Draco leave and we can have this out," Harry assured the red-faced man.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," I blurted, forgetting momentarily that I was trying to remain invisible.

"Unlike you, I don't snog Harry if I'm left alone with him for two minutes," Ron snarled angrily.

Harry turned and gave me one last longing glance before turning back to his friend. "I need you to leave, Draco." His words were for me, but the tone and his eyes were for Ron.

"I don't think that's best," I replied, worried at what the angry Weasley man might do to my Harry with no one there to supervise.

"Ron won't hurt me. He's my brother," Harry assured me, though it sounded like he was also assuring Ron, who merely huffed at the remark. "I need you to go."

"I-"

"Go. Now," he barked sharply before I could protest again. I didn't know what else to do, so I left. Harry seemed rather adamant that I leave, apparently so he could work things out with his friend. I lingered at the door, unsure of where to go or even how to get out of this house when I heard Harry's laughter through the door. My heart broke instantly when I realized that my words had meant nothing and that Harry had so quickly patched things up with Ron. Probably lying to the redhead and claiming it was entirely my fault.

Maybe it was. Maybe I only saw what I wanted to and Harry had never been attracted to me at all. Maybe the pull I felt was in my mind alone. With a sigh I resolved myself to my fate, my long life without Harry, and I left the Weasley's home for my own dark cold Manor. Alcohol and silk sheets would be my only solace tonight and I would try to forget my sorrow while the man of my dreams got married.

Author's Note: Yes, I know I'm going to be barraged with 'Poor Draco' reviews. I agree, poor him, but I also feel dreadful for Harry. No matter what he does someone will get hurt.


	13. March 19th, 2000

Author's Note: First thanks go to Angel and Mak, my betas for this chapter. Second thanks go to Laurel for asking for this story, I know this wasn't exactly what she asked for, but her quote of inspiration led to this, so I hope she likes it. This makes it sound like the end of the story, but I swear it isn't.

Chapter 13 March 19th, 2000

Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions, right? Sure there were tears, but they were usually tears of joy, not heartbreak. So, then why was I standing in one of the numerous new bedrooms of the Weasley home –a place I no longer recognized or felt comfortable calling 'the Burrow'- staring at an angry looking man who was supposed to become my brother in just under an hour, and why was I miserable?

Ron's face and hair blended together, and the fiery redhead seemed to emanate heat like a fresh sunburn; as if the waves of anger coming off the man were a palpable force, able to push me over before Ron ever took a step toward me. I was so thankful that Draco had finally listened to me and left the room. I was more terrified for the blond than for myself. In the end, if Ron wanted to physically injure someone it would be Draco he went after first, and I was afraid of what I'd have to do to protect him from that. More than anything I didn't want my slips in judgment to cause anyone else harm, but that was all I kept doing.

Ron was furious, no doubt debating whether or not to run and tell his sister what he'd found her groom up to, and I could only imagine Gin's reaction were he to do so. Draco seemed torn and heartbroken; his interrupted words still stung my heart when I thought of how much I wanted him but couldn't have him. How could I be so careless? How could I injure so many people in one small act? Why was I trying to destroy my own life? The Weasleys were my family, their arms always open and loving, so how could I do this to them? How could I betray their daughter, Ron's sister, by kissing Draco on our wedding day? What the fuck was wrong with me?

Draco's cool gray gaze filled my mind, his longing, his love for me. Ginny's eyes never looked that way. Something about him standing there looking both bold and vulnerable had drawn me to him, his lips called to me the same way they had in the pub only days ago. I've never wanted to kiss anyone more than I wanted to press my lips to Draco's in that moment. The duty to my adopted family wasn't lost on me, and I knew full well that in a few moments they would be collecting me to walk down the aisle for a completely different kiss –but I leapt forward anyway.

I don't know what compelled me. Love? Maybe. Was it possible to love two completely different people? I certainly did love Ginny, but Draco filled me with a kind of contentedness I felt with no one else. Just being in the same room with him had calmed all my nerves from what I was about to do. In the same light, it made me feel like a dirty cheat and unworthy of the Weasley's love. Why was I so willing to give it all up -my life, my family- for Draco's sweet lips?

I remained silent, my mind reeling through the last few moments, as Ron nearly trembled with fury. "Are you leaving her for the ferret?" he asked at last, his tone more of a growl than normal.

"No," I answered simply. I couldn't do that, could I? In the back of my head I always suspected that it was an option, but never a rational one. Never one I could truly act upon. The Weasleys had always been there for me, walking out on their daughter was no way to repay them for over a decade of kindness and love.

"Then I forbid you from seeing Malfoy ever again," Ron hissed, his hands forming fists at his sides.

I laughed. I hadn't meant to, but the noise just slipped from my throat unbidden. "You might be my brother, Ron, but you are _not_ my keeper," I informed him sharply, though I knew he was right. If I saw Draco again I knew I wouldn't be able to hold myself back. Draco was like an addiction, I either had to quit him or continue to crave the feeling that only he could provide me with. Still, I resented anyone who thought they could control me; Ron of all people should know that about me.

"I will not stand for you having an affair," he snarled. "She's my little sister. I'll always pick her over you and I don't want to have to choose."

And there was the truth of it. I felt a pang of pity for Ron in that moment, knowing his words were one hundred percent true. The entire Weasley family thought that way, whether they were willing to admit it or not. I wasn't their blood, and if I hurt Ginny I would be public enemy number one regardless of how much they thought of me, not that it should be any different. Their sense of loyalty and their family bond was one of the things I had always admired about the Weasley family, but the problem was, I didn't want to choose either. I wanted the sense of family I had with the ginger-headed Weasleys and the spark of fire in my gut I had with Draco as well. I knew I couldn't have both and it tore me apart. The Weasleys would never accept me back and they certainly wouldn't accept Draco, especially not if I left Ginny for him.

I didn't get a chance to respond though, because the door opened then and more Weasley men poured in. Bill, Percy, Charlie and George, all looking dapper in their pressed and matching tuxedos, flowed into the room like the red tide. "Alright, Harry? It looks like you've seen a ghost," George teased, clapping me on the shoulder.

"He's just got a bit of pre-wedding jitters," Bill observed. "I shook like a leaf on my wedding day."

I shared a glance with Ron, unobserved by the other men and he shot me a curt nod –one that clearly said 'this isn't over, but I'll drop it for now'. I was relieved by his hesitance to cause a scene; it was the last thing I wanted at the moment.

With a jolly whoop, the Weasley men escorted me from the room. I felt as if I were in the middle of a Quidditch celebration and that at any moment I would be hoisted above everyone's heads and lifted out to the altar that way. I tried to smile, tried to feel happy, but the entire trek out to the glass enclosed ceremony space just made me feel horrid and empty. I knew I shouldn't. I was about to marry a sweet and lovely woman, one of my best friends even. I should be happier than anyone there.

I had to make the journey down the aisle alone because the other men had to wait to escort Ginny's bridesmaids down after me. It felt like my final walk into the Forbidden Forest to face off with Voldemort, only I didn't have figments of my own family to accompany me this time. I tried not to notice the already full congregation as I walked until eventually coming to the altar, where I stood alone, staring at the ground. Everyone was watching me and I could feel myself go red with embarrassment. I hated attention, and there must have been nearly three hundred guests watching my every move since there was only the minister and I standing there for them to gawk at. My eyes flicked back to the stranger who would be conducting the ceremony and he smiled warmly and reassuringly but it didn't make me feel better. I still felt horrible for rejecting Draco and for cheating on Ginny again. I didn't deserve either of them.

When the music started I felt my whole body tense. Percy and Parvati filed out first, both of them shooting me winning grins before taking their place in the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen. The first couple was immediately followed by Bill and Fleur, then Charlie and Luna, and finally Ron and Hermione, the latter shooting me a sad smile before standing directly across from me while we waited for Ginny's entrance. I'd never seen Hermione look so flustered or Ron look so determined as he silently took his place at my side.

Standing there waiting, my mind began to wander. It was easy to imagine what my life would be like with Ginny. We'd have a quiet companionship, reading the paper together every Sunday while the children played in the yard. We'd have relaxing nights by the fire and passionate arguments when we disagreed. Things would be calm and happy and most importantly –normal. I craved that normal family, that normal life more than ever and I knew I could have that with Ginny. I had no idea what my life would hold if I had chosen Draco instead.

I swallowed thickly as the music shifted and I looked up to see Ginny standing at the other end of the aisle looking every bit the fairytale princess, only I felt more like a toad than her knight in shining armor. Maybe this really would change everything though. Maybe we'd recite our vows and share a kiss and live happily ever after just like in the bedtime stories my mother never got to read to me. My fiancée really was pretty, although she looked terribly nervous on her father's arm as she glided closer to where I stood. It made me more confident to know that I wasn't the only one worried about the step we were about to take. Perhaps I had been right before in thinking that Draco was a test, or a mere distraction to what my goals should be. The fact that the children I saw myself reading to sleep in my imagination had blonde hair and gray eyes meant nothing.

I loved Ginny. She was my best friend, she was beautiful and kind, I was just being selfish and greedy by wanting something more than that. She smiled at me and I took her trembling hands into my own when she arrived at the altar, parting her from Arthur, who winked at me and took his own seat. Bile rose in my throat as I thought of the man who was as good as a father to me, finding out what I'd just been doing behind his daughter's back, but I suppressed it and tried to concentrate on Ginny. I was doing the right thing.

"We are gathered here today to witness the joining of twin souls," the minister began, his voice magically amplified to reach across the vast hall so that even the guests in the furthest seats could hear him properly. I wanted to groan aloud at the choice of words. I didn't believe in soul mates, I didn't think there was someone out there who was meant to be mine and mine alone.

Ginny looked up at me, her eyes curious and wide. I must have done something to betray my feelings, so I quickly smiled, trying to reassure her that everything was fine. The minister was still droning on about love and commitment and my heart was starting to race, knowing what would come next. I felt as though it was so loud that all our guests could hear it, but no one seemed to be looking at me oddly, or whispering about it so I assumed it was all in my head.

"Harry James Potter, do you take this woman, Ginevra Molly Weasley, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish until death do you part?" the minister asked, startling me out of my reverie and waiting patiently for my answer.

"I do," I choked out. My tongue felt swollen and huge within my mouth, as if it might not fit when I tried to shut it again.

"Do you promise to honor her, protect her and remain faithful to her for the rest of your days?" he continued easily with the vows.

Ron made a coughing noise behind me that I didn't appreciate even a little, but Ginny seemed partially amused. Apparently she thought her brother was confirming the incident that had caused a scandal months ago. It dawned on me then that Draco's path and mine had been intimately twined for ages. Aside from Hagrid, he was the first wizard I had ever spoken to and even though I had detested him at once, I still felt an inexplicable connection between us, as if I knew our lives would remain bonded even then. _Could_ I stay away from him? Would fate even _let_ me?

"Mr. Potter?" the minister prompted and I remembered that I was supposed to answer.

"Oh, yes. I do," I replied at last, blushing furiously as I did.

The guests chuckled but Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly, not in anger but what instead looked like fear. Could she hear my thoughts? Could she tell that it was Draco I kept drifting back to even while she stood in front of me in a pristine white gown?

The Minister repeated the vows to Ginny, who answered without an ounce of hesitation, only making me feel worse about my own reluctance. My palms began to sweat as Ron reached around and handed me a small red velvet box and Hermione did the same for Ginny. I cracked the box open and stared blindly at the contents inside. Ginny had chosen simple rings because that was what I asked for, but I hadn't seen them until this very moment. A silver band with no adornments sat inside the box, taunting me with memories of another time and place.

"_Are you proposing? Because if you are, I'm going to have to decline."_ My own words flooded back to me from that desolate battlefield, the place I had first come to terms with the fact that Draco might not be all bad after all. He'd countered my teasing with a heartfelt promise to be there for me, no matter what. But it was all part of the life debt, it was all part of his need to be released from it. _Wasn't it?_

Maybe it had been then, but it was certainly something more now. My affection for Draco nearly ate me alive as I stood there staring down at the ring in the tiny velvet box –a ring so similar to the one he himself had placed upon my finger months ago. Looking at my own hand I could almost see it still there, a symbol of his love for me. I couldn't do this, I didn't want to betray the love and trust of the Weasleys, but I couldn't betray Draco this way. I loved him more than life itself and he deserved to know that, even if he rejected me for the mess I had put him through over the last year. I needed him to know that he was the one for me, and in that moment I knew for certain that he was. Perhaps I had a soul mate after all.

My breathing was ragged and I was so absorbed in how I was going to get away and into Draco's arms that I hadn't noticed Ginny reaching for my hand until she caught it in her tiny grasp. I pulled away as if burned and winced at the look of shock and dismay on her face. "I'm sorry," I whispered for her alone. "I'm sorry but I can't do this."

"What?" she rasped quietly and I could see her heart breaking right in front of me. Her face fell and her entire posture betrayed her instant grief and confusion.

"This wouldn't be right. You deserve better than me, Gin," I told her honestly.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Hermione sighed behind Ginny, causing the girl to turn her confused rage onto her Matron of Honor.

"What the hell is going on?" Ginny demanded, but my concentration had been diverted to Ron, who gripped my arm tightly.

"Don't do this, Harry. Don't ruin everything because of him," he hissed in my ear, but Ginny heard his words of caution.

"Him?" she asked. "What does he mean, Harry?"

"Draco," I replied firmly. "I love him."

Ginny started shaking her head slowly, I wasn't even sure she could hear me anymore. It seemed as though my words had driven her mad. Tears ran haphazardly down her cheeks and I reached out to comfort her, but she pulled away from me. "Are you really doing this, Harry? Are you really leaving _me_ for Malfoy on our wedding day?"

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm leaving because it's wrong to marry you when I'm in love with someone else."

"And you couldn't have decided this an hour ago?" she shrieked while the hundreds of guests looked on in rapt fascination. I knew this would be all over the front page of every newspaper before I was even allowed to flee.

"The timing is poor-" I began, but she cut me off with a harsh laugh.

"Poor? Poor?! Your timing is evil Harry James Potter. _You're_ evil!" she shouted, and I was suddenly grateful that Ginny didn't have her wand hidden away in that gown somewhere.

"Gin," I began to protest, but she smacked me sharply across the face. I deserved it, no doubt, but the sting of her hand was far better than the sting of losing Draco.

"I don't want to see your face or hear your voice ever again. Leave before I do something I might regret," she whispered, her rage boiling over into a simmering hatred.

I shot her one last apologetic look before making the long walk back down the aisle, fully aware of the daggers being launched into my back as I passed. My relationship with Ron and the rest of my adopted family had all been ruined because of my reluctance to admit to myself how I felt about Draco. My entire life was crumbling at my feet and all I could worry about was whether or not Draco would hate me as well. If my reluctance had ruined things with him too I didn't know what I would do.

A warm friendly arm enveloped my waist and I flinched momentarily before looking over at Hermione's tight smile. "You're such a drama queen," she chastised mockingly. "I should have known from the start that you were gay."

"I am _not_ a drama queen," I snapped, though I held no anger in my words, only frustration at my own behavior.

"Oh? What about that duel with Malfoy in second year, or the countless games of Quidditch where you simply had to show off those keen seeker skills to beat the other team to the snitch? You could never just swipe it from the air, instead you had to balance on the broom and catch it with your mouth," she recalled.

I laughed, a true laugh, before my frustration returned and I sighed deeply into Hermione's grip. "I miss how easy things were back then."

She raised an eyebrow in teasing and shook her head. "Only Harry Potter could continue to make things difficult for himself long after the dark wizard that haunted his childhood is dead and gone."

"Ron's never going to forgive me," I muttered darkly, thinking of all the days we'd spent together over the past decade. I was going to miss his friendship so much.

"The fact that you're more concerned about Ron than Ginny speaks volumes, Harry," she commented.

"I'm worried about Ginny, but I already know for certain that she'll never forgive me, nor should she for that matter" I groaned. "Ron's my best friend. I don't know what I'd do if he refused to speak to me ever again."

"I'd like to say that he'll come around, but you know Ron. It might take time. You forgave him for all the rubbish he put us through in school though, so I think one day he'll forgive you for this," she offered, trying to cheer me.

"How about Draco?" I asked, not really expecting her to answer. "What am I doing? I've been enemies with him longer than we've been friends. I think I love him, but I don't know what to do."

"You mean… anatomy wise?" she asked softly and I nearly laughed out loud.

"No, that's not what I meant, but fuck, I don't know what to do there either," I groaned. "What if he doesn't want me? What if I was just making too big a deal out of it? Maybe I made the wrong choice. Maybe I should have just stayed with Ginny so that at least _someone_ would be happy."

"Stop being ridiculous," Hermione demanded impatiently. "Stop thinking about everyone else and consider yourself for just a second. What do _you_ want, Harry?"

"Draco," I answered instantly. I felt no hesitation in that fact. The angelic blond Slytherin was all I ever thought about anymore.

"Then go get him," she ordered, pointing toward the door and my freedom –a freedom that had come at a gigantic cost.

Author's Note: So, I know some of you have already expressed reservations for if Harry left Ginny at the altar (and some of you just want Ginny out of the picture in any way possible) but I hope I took a normally cliche idea and made it work for our boys. Honestly I feel horrid for Ginny( I'll probably need to be nice to her in the rest of my stories to make up for the trauma I'm inflicting upon her in this one) but yay Harry for finally making up his mind!


	14. March 20th, 2000

Author's Note: Many thanks to my beta for this chapter, Angel.

Chapter 14 March 20th, 2000

There was no reason for the eight hundred count Egyptian cotton sheets that surrounded my body to be itchy, but they were. With every minute that ticked by I grew more and more uncomfortable in bed, but I couldn't seem to draw myself away from it. After leaving the Burrow Saturday evening, I wandered the Manor gardens for hours, wondering how Harry's wedding was progressing and whether or not they were already off to some romantic honeymoon location. I didn't even know what sort of travel Harry had done in the past, or what sights he'd like to see on such a special vacation as that, but for some reason I couldn't stop imagining him in well fitting swim trunks, lounging on a towel in the sand.

I could clearly picture a whitewashed beach house nestled in a forest of palm trees, with giant windows on one side that overlooked the crystal blue ocean. I could hear the seagulls calling him into the warm water and I could even feel the blazing sun bearing down. Although, in my mind, it wasn't a feisty redhead that accompanied him on this tropical trip, it was me. It would be _my_ pale skin that Harry lathered with sunscreen so that my fair complexion didn't burn to a crisp; it would be _my_ hands that pulled him playfully into the surf and _my_ lips that he would lick the salt from. It would be _our_ beach house and _our_ vacation and _our_ happily-ever-after. But alas, after trying to win Harry's heart for more than a year, I had failed in the ultimate way and would soon be bombarded with news articles and magazine covers featuring the new happy couple: Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

I had easily found the grave marker placed in mother's favorite rose bed, the one that had my father's name engraved upon it. He wasn't buried there of course, his body was still in an Azkaban cell, but we felt his spirit was here with us. He used to walk the vast Manor gardens with mother all the time, they both found the air and the aroma of blooming flowers to be their only respite from the hectic life of the Pureblood elite. Although, I always believed that father was there more for the company than for the roses.

"You'd be so disappointed in me, Father," I told the solitary granite monument, tracing my fingertips along the words carved there. 'Lucius Abraxas Malfoy' it read, 'Beloved husband and father'. He was beloved, even if he was a generally bad and manipulative man. Had he been alive and with us still, he would have prevented this tragedy between Harry and I. He would have pulled me aside in the beginning and blasted me for even having an inkling of kind emotion toward Harry Potter. He would have called Harry a meddling brat and I would have been indignant at first, but in the end I would have listened, because I always heeded my father's words.

"I went and fell in love, even though I knew it was doomed from the very start," I told the stone. "He's so perfect for me, though. I think, had you had the chance to know him, you might have thought so, too."

I knew that was a lie. Father's prejudice against Harry ran through his very blood, stemmed from a time when I was just a baby and the green-eyed boy had conquered our master. _His_ master, I corrected myself silently. Voldemort never was mine. I only liked to use stories about him to make my classmates fear and respect me, although that was until I met the fearsome creature. The moment I saw what Voldemort was truly like and viciously capable of I stopped speaking of him altogether out of fear for my own life.

"I suppose you needn't worry, though. He's gone forever for me now. He's married another and left me broken. Oh, Father," I sobbed, falling to my knees in the dirt and leaning my head against the gravestone. "You would hate me for how weak I've become. You would cast me out and disown me as your son. How could I have strayed so far from your path in so short a time?"

I started when I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, but I recognized my mother's perfume even over that of the roses. "Your father will always love you, Draco, just as I do. We would have eventually accepted anyone you brought home to us as long as they made you happy."

I laughed, a harsh a bitter sound, but my mother remained unaffected by it. "It's easy to say that now that he's no longer here to defend his views. Please, do not try to placate me with lies, Mother. I knew my father and I know what he would say to me now if he were here."

"I knew your father, too," she replied, her haughty tone returning. "You'd be wise to see that I knew him longer and far more intimately than you, my Son. I cannot count the nights he laid awake worried over you."

"Worried that his only son would bring shame to the Malfoy name," I sighed, no longer containing the energy to spout the words as the venom I thought them to be. "I've certainly done an excellent job at that."

"Your father sullied the name 'Malfoy' the moment he put it in league with Tom Riddle," she replied sharply. "There was no name left to tarnish by the time you took the mantle, so I wouldn't worry over it too much, Draco. What's important now is that I love you and you'll always be precious to me, even if you think yourself broken."

She left after that, not one to prolong sweet sentiments and endearing gestures. I wish I had inherited either of my parent's polished marble facades. It would have made coping with my heartbreak over Harry much easier. As it was, I left my father's grave, trying to trust in my mother's words that he was, in fact, more proud of me than disgraced.

Once I made it up to my room Sunday morning, I never left again. Mother called on me a few times but I never answered the door for her. I couldn't bring myself to have a conversation while my heart felt as though it was splitting into a thousand pieces. All I could do was lie in my plush bed and think of Harry Potter. His eyes, his smile, the way he ran his hand through his already messy hair, the way he chewed on his bottom lip, the way it felt to kiss those perfect lips. I was sunk, and there was no way out for me.

Sleep never came to me, even though I could feel the harsh sting of the still air on my unblinking eyes as I stared up at the ceiling above me. I wasn't sure if sleep would be a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it might be just what I needed to blissfully depart from reality for just a while, but on the other hand, it might only serve to make my nightmares of Harry more vivid and impossible to cope with. I couldn't decide which was worse, the images I had of him lounging in the sun, or the night terrors I would surely have of being forced to watch him marry that bint?

Before I knew it, the sun had come up and it was morning again and I hadn't slept a wink. I could see the amber light streaming in through the cracks of my drawn curtains, casting the room in unwanted light. Darkness would do just fine for my wallowing mood; the sun could call on me on another day. When I heard a soft knock at the door I ignored it once again, hoping mother wouldn't be too terribly offended. I wasn't going to be good company for anyone, not anytime soon at least.

Although, she was rather persistent this morning it seemed, and it wasn't long before her powerful wand broke through my simple locking spells and she came bustling into my room with a tray. She placed it by the bed, ignoring my scowl, and set about pouring two cups of tea. When finished, she sipped upon one, while letting the other hover over to where I had turned away from her.

"There was a very entertaining article in the paper this morning," she noted casually, the teacup still nudging my back. "I thought you might want to have a look."

"Doubtful," I muttered, pulling the covers over my head to escape her.

"Oh, Draco dear, do stop being so melodramatic. Perhaps it's simply a picture of the Weasley girl falling as she made her way down the aisle," she chuckled.

The image of Ginevra in a pristine white gown, floating toward the altar and her waiting fiancé came unbidden to my mind. Then it quickly morphed, and Ginevra was toppling down, having tripped on an invisible foot –probably mine- and sent sprawling for the entire congregation to see. The fall was soon followed by my pinning and strangling her, but I took a deep breath and shook my head. "Sorry, Mother. I'm afraid not even that will cheer me today."

"Draco, I demand you turn over this instant," she commanded, her tone that of a woman who refused to be trifled with. "Have a cup of tea and read this paper."

I rolled my eyes and luckily I was still turned away so that she wouldn't see, before doing as she asked. I propped myself up on my pillows and jerked the hovering teacup from the air, spilling a bit of it on me in my haste. I downed the contents in three gulps and held my hand out for the paper. Mother looked on as if I'd sprouted three heads for having such atrocious manners, but placed the folded parchment in my hand regardless.

There, in full color brilliance, was a picture of Harry walking out of the wedding and a sobbing Weasley girl falling into her angry brother's arms. What in Merlin's name had happened after I left? The headline stated the obvious from the photographic evidence provided, 'Harry Potter Leaves Ginevra Weasley at the Altar'.

I nearly whooped for joy in that same instant, but held my tongue before I read further. Who knew how accurate the photo or headline actually was. Reporters were always trying to drum up scandalous news on their reluctant hero.

'_Harry Potter, best known throughout the world for his defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was scheduled to marry his fiancée of two years, Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley just after the stroke of midnight on the first day of spring. The wedding, it appeared, wasn't meant to be._

_Witnesses report the groom looked antsy as he made his way to the altar, and even though his bride came down the aisle looking radiant in a custom St. Pucci gown, his demeanor didn't lighten throughout the ceremony. The openings were read, vows exchanged, but when handed the rings, Mr. Potter was reported to have gone mad. No one in the audience heard the exact exchange of what made Harry Potter leave his soon-to-be wife, and members of the bridal party have been unavailable for questioning so far. It was said, however, that Hermione Granger, purported best friend to Mr. Potter and wife of his best man, Ronald Weasley, chased after the fleeing groom._

_Many have speculated that Potter and Granger have been carrying on a secret affair behind their partner's backs. This reporter is ready and waiting for an announcement that my loyal readers will know I predicted when Harry Potter was merely a boy of fourteen._

_Rita Skeeter, Witch Weekly'_

I shuddered for Harry, knowing that this article would serve to worsen his relationship with the Weasley family, even more so than running out on their youngest member had surely done. It was horrid timing, although, if I had my way Saturday night I would have taken him away with me, which wouldn't have been much better for poor Ginevra. Now the she was no longer clinging to Harry's hand and name, I found that I didn't hate the girl so much as I used to.

"So?" Mother prodded. "Good news, yes?"

"I suppose," I conceded, "but I have no idea why Harry left, and that was in the early hours of yesterday, suppose he's gone back to her already, or maybe there really is some truth to the bit about him and Granger?" I added with another shudder.

"Rubbish," she replied, as if she knew something that I didn't. "My Galleons are on the fact that he left her for you."

"Now you're being ridiculous, Mother," I chastised for getting my hopes up for even a second. "If that were the case, why hasn't he been to see me?"

"Well, he's here now," she informed me.

"What?" I gasped, my heart racing as my mind tried to play catch up with what she'd just said.

"He arrived an hour ago. We've been having a little chat, he and I, and I believe he has some things to tell you," she explained.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" I shouted, pulling off the covers and running for the door.

"I did." Her tone was both haughty and slightly offended, but I had no use for trying to make her feel better at the moment.

"You could have led with that bit of important information," I hissed, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror and pausing in my tracks. I looked dreadful, there were dark circles under my eyes, my hair was disheveled and greasy looking. I was a mess, and I didn't want Harry to see me this way.

"You likely would have passed him off if I hadn't made you aware of his wedding cancellation first," she noted wisely. "If you still thought he was married, you wouldn't have wanted to see him."

Her logic was sound, but it didn't matter. I wasn't actually angry with her; I wasn't capable of being angry with anyone at this very moment.

I cast a series of cleansing Charms on myself, while I ran to my closet, tearing it apart looking for the right thing. What did one where to meet the man of his dreams when it turned out his dreams might have come true after all? Honestly, it would serve the git right for everything he had put me through if I were to make him wait downstairs while I took a nice, long, luxurious bath. Let him sit and wonder if I had changed my mind about him for once, but I couldn't bring myself to delay any longer, so I slipped into a pair of well-fitting denims and a deep gray jumper and sprinted down the stairs after kissing my mother quickly on the forehead.

I stopped when I reached the last step and took a slow, deliberate breath; around that corner would be Harry, and I had no idea what to say to him. My hand shook like autumn leaves as I took that final step and rounded the corner into the small sitting room off the foyer. He sat in an armchair facing the door but his head was down, so he didn't see me at first. His hands fidgeted blindly in his lap and then his head came up sharply, meeting my gaze.

"Draco," he whispered, as if awed by my very presence. I nodded and slowly made my way to a chair across from him, but I didn't sit down, I stood behind it, using the upholstered furniture like an emotional shield, waiting for the moment he told me my mother had misunderstood him and that he was in fact still in love with Ginevra, or some tripe.

"Harry," I greeted in return, unsure of what else to say.

"I suppose you've already heard?" he asked awkwardly.

"About the wedding?" I asked, and he nodded. "Yes. I've heard."

He stood then, and walked over to stand in front of the chair I was clinging to the back of, its brocade fabric and strong wooden frame the only thing between us. "I'll have you know that it's all your fault," he whispered, a subtle smile curling at his lips.

"Is it, now?" I asked him, my own smile betraying my joy at his words. How was it I was able to forget all the bad and feel nothing but warmth from his gaze? I suppose that's what father was referring to when he told me that love would make me foolish. "I wasn't even there."

"Yes, you were," he corrected, his eyes lighting up like brilliant green flames. "You're always there. I can't stop thinking about you, Draco. I couldn't marry Ginny when I think about you more than I think about her."

I held my breath, hoping that I wasn't imagining this sudden admission of affection, wishing that he would just shut up and kiss me already. "Just so you know, I don't forgive you for returning my ring and breaking my heart," I told him, though my tone was playful. I did forgive him; I could forgive him anything if he promised to want me forever.

"That's okay," he replied, his face still shining with happiness, "I don't forgive you for ruining my wedding."

I laughed then, and left my shield behind as I went to his side, my hand extended for him to take. So many times this simple gesture had been tested; so many times I had felt the sting of rejection as he passed me aside for someone else, but not this time. Just as he held me the afternoon that Dementors took my father's soul, he held me now. His hand was strong and warm in my own and I pulled him close to me, relishing in how well our bodies fit together. "Maybe we can talk about it over breakfast?" I suggested, pulling him beside me toward the dining room, but Harry seemed to have other plans.

He stopped us in the hall and cupped my face in his strong hands, watching closely as my breath quickened. "I love you, Draco Malfoy," he confessed, and my heart fluttered violently at the sentiment.

"I think you're alright, too," I told him, my mirth at his second of doubt showing clearly on my face. He expertly wiped it away with his lips as he pulled me into a blinding kiss. Stars burst behind my eyes and my whole body responded to his touch like no other.

Our tongues danced for dominance, Harry easily winning, but I didn't mind. I melted against him, knowing that he was finally mine, knowing that this would only be the first of many kisses to follow. I moaned for him and his hands darted from my face to feather through my hair, before slipping down around my waist and pulling me closer, as if he were trying to pull my body inside of his.

I was out of breath when we broke apart, but I smiled at him, a smile that for the first time in over a year wasn't tinged with sorrow. "Okay, so I suppose I love you, too," I conceded, laughing at his boyish grin.

He took my hand; pulling me in the direction I had been leading us before. "Now that we have that settled, where is this breakfast you spoke of?"

Author's Note: Aw, so I _could_ just end it there, what do you say? More? lol. Well, I'm writing more anyhow...


	15. May 4th, 2000

Author's Note: Many thanks to both Angel and Robert (yay Robert's back) for their beta work on this chapter.

**Chapter 15 May 4****th****, 2000**

I couldn't stifle the smile that erupted on my face when I opened my eyes to find myself wrapped around a delicious blond. Draco's chest still heaved evenly below me, dreams still his constant companion, but I didn't mind. Mornings like these gave me time to think about how different my life was now, and how thoroughly I lacked regrets for how I came to be here in my boyfriend's arms.

So much had happened in the last six weeks that they seemed to practically fly by us. Immediately after the wedding I rushed to Malfoy Manor, where I just stood for hours, staring like some creepy stalker. I couldn't get my feet to move toward the door, but it seemed I hadn't needed to. Around lunchtime, Narcissa came out bearing a tray of cucumber sandwiches and a glass of sparkling grape juice. She didn't say a word as she left it on the stone bench beside my blushing form, shooting me a wry smile before strolling back inside.

I ate the food greedily -having not had a bite since long before the wedding ceremony- but I still didn't approach the Manor, instead opting to sit at the bench and wait until it felt right.

Another hour passed before Narcissa emerged again, this time looking rather determined. "I take it you're waiting for Draco to come to you?" she asked, her blonde eyebrow raised haughtily.

"Not at all," I corrected. "I just… I want to be perfect for him and I don't know what to say."

She smiled at this, her face softening and she took a seat beside me. "Harry dear, you needn't worry so much. Draco is enamored with you, and whether you're perfect or not, he will see you that way."

I blushed faintly and followed her gaze to a window on the topmost floor that looked out over the side gardens. It must have been Draco's room. "I just –what if he's still cross with me?"

"Then you'll have to deal with that, but Draco's bark is far worse than his bite," she assured me.

"What if I get his hopes up and can't go through with it?" I asked, feeling the blood course through my face, heating my cheeks.

"Are you worried that you won't be able to make love to another man?" she asked, and I noted then how much Narcissa was like an older Hermione.

"That among other things," I groaned, letting my face fall into my hands. "We've been enemies for so long. What if I don't know how to be anything else?"

"I think you've been more than that to him for a little over a year now. How about you, Harry? What is Draco to you now?" she asked and my body tensed and froze in place.

"I don't know for sure," I admitted at last and her hand rubbed a soft circle on my back.

"I didn't know that Lucius and I would ever love one another," she told me, almost out of the blue. "We'd been betrothed since we were both infants and we knew, given our families, that there was nothing we could do about it."

"So, you had an arranged marriage?" I asked, slightly surprised. They had seemed such a matched pair; it didn't take a keen eye to see that.

"Oh, yes," she replied with a nod. "It was unheard of for a pureblood to choose their spouse when I was young, in some circles it's still frowned upon and marriages are often still arranged when our children are young. Draco, for instance, was promised to Pansy Parkinson when he was only three. It wasn't until I learned of his sexual proclivities shortly before the war that I convinced Lucius to break the contract. I couldn't bear for my son to be in a loveless marriage."

"And you and Lucius?" I pried, wondering if it was my place to ask.

"He and I were rocky at first, but our love was a slow, burning love, one that built up until we didn't think it could get any larger, and then it would. We hated each other at first; he was pompous and I had a crush on a boy from school and saw Lucius as my death. The moment I set foot off the carriage from Black Manor I loathed him and made that fact perfectly clear, and it seemed he returned the sentiment."

I remained quiet, wrapped up in her story. I was fascinated by the way Draco grew up, because it was so vastly different from my own childhood.

"One morning I woke feeling ill, and I thought I was going to die in truth. I was in so much pain and had a fever that wouldn't abate. It was then that Draco's father showed his true worth. He didn't leave my side for a moment and his hand clutched mine as if to hold me back from the brink until the Healers made me well again. The night I broke my fever and saw Lucius still there at my bedside was the night we conceived Draco," she mused, lost in the memory. "So, you see Harry, sometimes it's the events in life that show you where you ought to be all along; sometimes they even help you get there."

"So, you think Draco and I are meant for each other?" I asked after a good bit of thought over her words.

"I do," she whispered with a nod. "I know that I've never seen my son so in love, and though I cannot speak for you, it seems you return those feelings."

All I could do was nod fervently. "I'm fairly certain I'll never love anyone more," I admitted after a moment.

The soft expression in her eyes, the color of water on a winter day, made me realize she'd been testing me, making sure I was worthy of her precious son. Somehow I had passed that test. "Then I suggest you go home, change out of your wedding clothes, take a nice long shower and get some sleep. Draco will still be in love with you in the morning."

I sighed, not wanting to leave for even a moment, but Draco's mother made sense. I reeked from standing in the spring warmth all day, I was still wearing the tuxedo I was supposed to marry Ginny in –how tacky would it be to profess my love while still wearing that- and I was exhausted. So, after a bit of prodding, I bid Narcissa farewell and left for my own flat.

At first I had planned on just taking a nap and coming back the same evening. I didn't think I could wait until morning, but when I got to my flat, Ron was there in a furious snit. It was as if I was a teenager and he was waiting for me to arrive after I'd been out past curfew.

"You have some nerve, Harry," the redhead growled.

All I could do was sigh as the events of the previous two days finally caught up with me. "Punch me if you want, just make it quick so I can go to bed," I grumbled.

"I really should, you know it," he growled as he stood up from the armchair he'd been occupying. "You broke her heart today."

"I know, and for that I'm sorry. All I can say is that it's better this way," I told him honestly. I hated hurting Ginny, but the more I thought about it, the more obvious it became to me that I would have hurt her regardless. We could have gone through with the wedding, but eventually we would have gotten divorced because I was in love with someone else, or worse, we could have stayed together and both been miserable.

"How is it better? She's sobbing her eyes out while you're off buggering Malfoy!" he shouted.

"Buggering?" I repeated, finding the word simultaneously amusing and offensive. "Is that what you think of me? You think I left Ginny so that I could 'bugger' Mafoy?"

"Well, where have you been all day?" he pressed, clearly not buying that I didn't have Malfoy bent over a table all morning.

"I was standing outside the manor, trying to figure out how I was going to apologize to him and tell him that I love him," I told my friend honestly. I was tired of trying to hide all of this from Ron. He was my best mate and he deserved to know how I felt, even if Ron shunned me for it.

"Love?" he asked, latching onto the word like it was a toxin he had to get rid of in a hurry. "How could you possibly love that rodent?"

My jaw locked up to keep the scathing rebuke in my mind instead of blurting out of my mouth. Ron, after all, still only knew about what we'd been through with the boy in school. He had no idea that a softer, sweeter Draco was hidden below all those layers of malice we'd seen at Hogwarts. After taking a deep breath, I tried again. "I love Draco," I told him plainly. "I want to spend every waking moment in his company and eventually, if he'll have me, I do intend to bugger his brains out."

The last bit I added just to see Ron's brilliantly red face evaporate into such a pale sheen that his skin tone might rival Draco's. I had to admit there was a fair bit of satisfaction in my voice as I said it.

"You… Malfoy…. That's disgusting!" he shouted eloquently. "He's brainwashed you, Harry, but no worries. We'll set this right. Your relationship with Ginny might be past salvaging, but there are plenty of women who would love to date Harry Potter," he informed me unnecessarily. "I'll consult Hermione and we'll figure out what Hex he used on you to muddle up your brain."

I just sighed and sunk into an armchair across from the one Ron had been sitting in. "You do that, Ron. Let me know what Hermione says, alright?"

With a determined nod, Ron set out, probably to do just as he'd claimed, only, I don't think he was going to get the kind of help he was expecting out of his wife.

After that, I'd done just as Narcissa had suggested. I lingered in the shower, thinking of how Draco would feel wet and pressed against me. I ate a bit of dinner, wondering if Draco might let me feed him one day, and then I laid down for a nap, wishing the blond was curled up beside me.

I really did feel horrible for what I'd done to Ginny, but all of it seemed a necessary evil when I looked at it from an outside perspective. Perhaps once Draco and I had made amends and carved out a life for ourselves, we could set Ginny up with a nice bloke who would treat her right.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I tried not to read the papers much in the days immediately following my profession of love to Draco. I was relieved he'd accepted me so easily, and he'd only made me beg when we were in private after breakfast that morning, out of range from Narcissa's prying ears.

I couldn't believe how instantly happy we were, and as long as neither of us read the terrible articles being written about us, we remained that way. Narcissa was very adept at keeping the papers from us, but when we tried to go out in public, we were bombarded with reporters and photographers, as well as people in general who hated or loved us indiscriminately.

"Is it true that you left Ginevra Weasley for Draco Malfoy?"

"Are you two intimate or just close friends?"

"Can you confirm the rumor that Ginevra is pregnant with your child, Harry?"

That had been an awful day, and what was supposed to have been a simple trip to pick out new brooms had nearly reduced Draco to tears. I felt guilty all over again, thinking that perhaps my involvement in his life had been a mistake. It took us three days to confirm that Ginny was not, in fact, pregnant with anyone's child, let alone mine, but the damage had been done and a seed of doubt had been sewn into Draco's mind.

He was certain that one day I would leave him just as surely as I had left her. After that we decided to put a cap on our visits together into the wizarding world until this whole thing blew over. It wasn't as though I was ashamed of him, but I just didn't want my public persona to cause him any upset. I loved Draco with my whole heart and would shout it out to the world if I thought that wouldn't bring more harm on our heads than good.

Out of the Weasleys, I'd only seen Hermione. Ginny apparently went out in public even less than Draco and I, for similar reasons. Ron refused to speak to me until I confessed that this was all a ruse and tell him I wasn't in love with Draco and that my being with him had all been one big prank. Obviously, that wasn't happening any time soon.

I was completely estranged from the Weasley clan now, a leper to the people I used to call family. Some might say it wasn't fair, but I made my choice and I was happy with it. I traded the fickle Weasley family for true love with Draco and I refused to look back. My family was now Draco, Narcissa and occasionally Hermione, who snuck over to see me quite often. For now, she was trying to keep it a secret from Ron that she saw me as much as she did because she was trying to keep her own marriage together, but she hated what the Weasleys were doing to me and vowed to change their minds. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was happier without them.

My life was whole for the first time in as long as I could remember, and when I looked at Draco's sleeping face, I felt my heart thrum with the love I felt for him. As I ran my fingers along the soft skin of his jaw, I smiled when he nuzzled into the touch.

"Draco, my love," I cooed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. If not for the subtle curl of his lips I might have thought he was still asleep, but I'd learned every facet of his expressions over the last few weeks and I knew he was waiting to see how I would continue.

I nipped the skin along his collarbone, relishing in his shiver, and proceeded lower, trailing my tongue along the flesh of his chest that still burned hot from sleeping. Focusing on his tiny pink nipple, I ran the tip of my tongue in circles around it before descending on it with grazing teeth. A sharp intake of breath is the only reaction Draco allowed himself as he kept up his pretense of sleeping.

It took a good deal of energy to resist tickling him when I dropped my face to his stomach, but I moved along, feeling Draco tense for a moment, probably knowing full well what trickery drifted through my mind. Throwing back the covers, I centered on the one thing I knew he wouldn't be able to keep his composure through.

With practiced ease I enveloped his cock in my mouth, and sure enough, he nearly bolted upright in response. A low throaty moan met my ears and I looked up the expanse of his naked flesh to meet his eyes, shooting him an amused wink. His gray eyes were like smoke billowing off the embers of a raging fire, and I locked onto them as I licked and sucked at his taut member.

I pulled away for a moment to wet my fingers, and he groaned as he watched me, no doubt anticipating where those fingers would end up. When I descended upon his cock again, he clutched the sheet below him, as if he needed some tangible distraction from the pleasure.

With my free hand, the one that wasn't holding his prick still, I teased his entrance, pressing my thumb against the puckered hole and smiling when he moaned for me. Slowly, I pushed a single finger inside of him and suddenly the hands that had been fisting the sheets were now fisting my hair. I loved the feeling of those lithe fingers pulling at my ebony locks; I could almost feel his ecstasy vibrate though me when he did that.

I could feel his prostate and rubbed against it, feeling him shudder beneath me with each graze of my finger. I could tell he was getting close to the edge, so I wasted no time introducing two more fingers, which sobered him for a moment, but he quickly adapted and began moving to meet each thrust of my fingers until I heard my name screamed through the air and felt my mouth fill up with the product of Draco's orgasm.

I continued to work him until his body began shuddering uncontrollably and he nearly shoved me away. My Dragon was so sensitive after climaxing and I loved to tease him with it. After a moment I slinked up his body, capturing his lips in a deep kiss -letting him taste himself on my tongue- and he moaned into my mouth in reply.

"Well, someone was feeling cheeky this morning," he murmured against my lips when we broke apart. His hand drifted down to wrap around my erection, but I pulled away with a grin.

"I have to get ready for work," I told him reluctantly. It was the only part of my life that had remained the same, although, working with Ron had become increasingly awkward since his abandonment of Ginny.

"But, I haven't had my turn to make _you_ scream yet," he pouted; making his lips look deliciously kissable. So far there hadn't been an instant where I could resist the Malfoy pout.

"I'm already running late," I tried to reason. "You can attack me the minute I walk through the door tonight," I promised.

At this his pout only deepened. "I want to attack you now," he purred, stalking me across the bed as if he were a cat waiting to pounce. I chuckled as I maneuvered away from him. "Floo in sick," he suggested. "You never take time off and we can spend the day whole day together."

I sighed, already feeling myself give into his demands, I just couldn't resist him. "Fine you win, I'll stay here and let you shag me," I replied, making it sound like I was offering him a grand favor, but my twitching cock betrayed me.

He smiled a wide, toothy grin and launched himself at me, claiming my mouth with those pouting lips. I couldn't count how many times we made love that morning, but when he finally let me up it was nearing lunch before I got to scrawl out a fictional story of how I woke up late and quite ill and wouldn't be coming into the office today. I sent it along with Draco's owl, knowing how it would look, but I didn't care enough to go to the public Owlery. I still hadn't picked out a new owl of my own, which gave me an idea.

"We should have lunch out, and you can help me choose a new owl. I haven't got a new one since Hedwig…" I suggested, letting my voice trail off at the end. The untimely death of my first owl still stung when I thought about it.

"I thought we were keeping our relationship a secret," he asked me hesitantly.

"No!" I replied, nearly shouted. "Merlin, no, Draco. I don't want you to be a secret, I just don't want the media making you some kind of monster," I tried to explain.

"I'm used to that, Harry," he muttered, obviously still bitter over the fact.

"Well, that doesn't change anything. I love you and I don't want them hounding you. Today should be safe enough. They wouldn't be looking for me since I should be at work. We can wear disguises," I suggested playfully, waggling my eyebrows. "Think of all the kinky costume sex we could have," I continued, nudging him with my elbow.

His skeptic frown turned into a grin and he nodded. "It could be fun."

It was the first time I had gotten to go out in public and hold Draco's hand without the worry that we would be accosted within minutes. It was nice being out with him, and we picked out a smoky gray owl that we named Asher before sharing an ice cream and then heading back to the Manor.

Life with Draco was going to be good; I could feel it in my bones. All we had to do now was wait for the media to lose interest; then, everything would be perfect.

Author's Note: I know there has been some confusion as to whether or not the story was ended (obviously not) or ending very soon. I have about 6-8 more chapters mapped out for it, so it's not over yet!


	16. August 12th, 2000

Author's Note: Thanks to Robert for his beta on this chapter. I might need to revise my last statement of 6-8 chapters left. I had a lot of drama and angst planned for our two boys but I just couldn't do it to them. A year is long enough to wait, isn't it? And in their current position, the original plot seemed out of place. So, there will probably be only one or two chapters left after this one (which is a long one) so enjoy!

Chapter 16 August 12th, 2000

There were a few different things in my childhood home that I cherished above others. The manor was filled with priceless artwork and antiques, but most of those meant nothing to me personally. There was a wingback chair in my father's study that held great importance; I used to sit there on my father's lap while he worked and he would explain his job to me and give me advice that I still recalled vividly to this day. There was an ornate silver hairbrush of my mother's that I often let my fingers caress when I was in her rooms. Every night, when I was a small boy, she would sit at the edge of her bed and sing to me as she brushed her luminescent hair with that brush. I would fall asleep there in her bed and together my parents would carry me to my own quarters.

There were a few paintings I admired - an original Dali in the library always caught my eye - and there was a blue crystal vase in the foyer that had been a gift to our family from the Queen of England for donations my father had made when he was still alive. Above all the material objects, which accrued would count for more Galleons than our vault could hold, I cherished the newest fixture to our home the most.

Harry Potter -my best friend, my boyfriend, my lover- had been living there at the manor since the day he professed his love for me. There had been some debate on whether or not he should get his own place, since Ginny took over the flat they'd shared after the failed wedding, but I just couldn't bear to have him away from me after our struggle to get together in the first place.

Mother set him up with his own private quarters adjacent to mine, but I don't know if he's ever even stepped foot inside of them. Every night he spends curled up with me in our now shared bed, and I couldn't see it any other way. We take most meals together, we fly together nearly every weekend and I have him entirely to myself whenever I like. It's perfect. Almost.

I'm not complaining really, this is precisely what I wanted and I couldn't be happier, but there is some little sliver of our lives that's still missing. Something I've yet to pinpoint, but I know it's there, lurking, waiting to cause us strife when we're least expecting it.

It was this phantom menace that was on my mind while I scanned the paper that morning over tea. It was Saturday and I was chipper since Harry didn't have to leave for work that morning. I thought about what we should do today and turned to the events section of the paper, scanning it for anything that caught my eye. Unfortunately, something did.

"Harry," I asked, folding the paper down so that I could see his face when he looked up. A bit of butter had worked its way into the corner of his mouth and I wanted to lean over to lick it off, instead I merely cast a level gaze at him. "Did you know the Annual Ministry Gala was tonight?"

The look on his face spoke clearly to the fact that he was weighing his answer carefully but in the end he finally nodded. I was relieved he hadn't thought it necessary that he lie to me about it but still, I had more questions. "And were you planning to go?" I pressed.

"No," he said simply, almost rolling his eyes before he caught himself. "I would have told you if I'd planned to go."

"Were you not invited then?" I asked, mildly outraged on his behalf. With all that he did for the Ministry the very least they could do was invite him to their yearly party. Were things tenser at the office than Harry had been letting on? Was his association with me causing injury to his career? Had he been excluded from more than just the Gala because he'd chosen to bed the son of a former Death Eater over the daughter of a prominent wizarding family?

"Of course I was invited," Harry chuckled, as if the question had been utter nonsense. "They were incensed when I declined. The Minister had been counting on my appearance."

"So," I began, but all my questions fell short on my lips. I didn't understand and I said so.

Harry sighed and put down the scone he had been attempting to take another bite of while I asked my questions and kept him from his breakfast. "I don't like Ministry events, I never have. I thought it would be much nicer to spend the evening alone with you."

"I take it that it was _I_ who was not invited?" I whispered, knowing the answer before it met my ears.

Harry got up and moved to my side of the table, clutching my hand in the warmth of his own. "I didn't want to upset you, but no, you weren't invited. The Minister didn't want a scene and he thought that since you and I haven't seen the Weasley family since the wedding that it might come to that."

"Why haven't you seen them?" I asked, veering off topic a moment to yet another problem I could see ready to blow up in our faces. If we were going to be forbidden from events the Weasley family would be attending I'd never get to leave the house.

"I think the answer to that question is fairly obvious," Harry replied, inclining his head toward our joined hands.

"But they're your family," I protested. "I never expected you to give everything else up when you chose me."

A flicker of sadness crossed Harry's brilliant green orbs but it was banished just as quickly as it had arrived. "I'm afraid I knew it would come to this all along. It was what delayed my hand in making the choice to begin with," Harry admitted. "I wrote to them my first week here and they know perfectly well how to contact me if they'd like to talk. Ron works in my department for Merlin's sake and he hasn't said a word to me that isn't work related since March."

"So, you're not going to try and win their affections back?" I asked, slightly baffled. I held no love for the Weasley family, but I knew that they were a major part of Harry's life and I wanted him to have that sense of home and family he had before. Mother and I couldn't possibly be enough to fill that gap.

"Aside from the fiasco at the wedding, I did nothing wrong," he answered determinedly. "I chose to follow my heart and they should be happy that I'm happy. If they were ever really my family then they would be. I've given them more than enough time to get over my poor timing and reconcile with me and they've made no effort."

"It's their loss," I told him honestly. Harry was the best man I've ever known and had he continued on his path to marry Ginevra I would have had to be content in the knowledge that I was a part of this man's life, however briefly, and cherish those moments for what they were. The thought of anyone abandoning him the way the Weasleys had was just unfathomable to me. I wanted to be with him every moment of every day, how could anyone not?

He gave me a weak smile and I took the opportunity to kiss the offending butter that still lingered on his lips. He kissed me back and it was sweet and gentle as it often was between us, but I still felt the fire in my gut the same way I had that first time over a year ago now.

Thinking on what we'd been through made me consider what we'd been doing almost a year ago today. We'd been at the Gala together, but not together at all. I smiled faintly when I thought of the look on Harry's face upon seeing my date for the evening and I wished this year we could have gone together to show that Harry and I were a proud and beautiful couple.

And that was when it hit me; the problem had been lurking and suddenly reared its ugly head and looked directly at me. Harry was ashamed of me; he was forgoing this Gala because he didn't want people to see us together. He certainly hadn't minded taking Ginevra last year.

"So if we're not going to the Gala, perhaps we can go out and have a celebratory dinner," I challenged. We hadn't been out much at all since we'd been together. Stories of our coupledom floated around on every newspaper and magazine but Harry was uncomfortable going out in public arm in arm so that any of those stories could be confirmed and when we did go out, it was often in disguise. I tried not to bring it up very often because Harry was rather adamant that he didn't want the media attacking us, but it made me wonder if there wasn't something more to it than that.

"I suppose," Harry replied with a nod. "What would we be celebrating?"

"Our five month anniversary," I replied and he chuckled.

"What gift do I give you for that monumental event?" he asked, clearly teasing.

"A night out with you, no costumes," I told him and his mirth died away rather quickly.

"Draco," he began, but I cut him off with a sharp look.

"Harry, I need to get out of this house, and I need to know that you love me and that you want the world to know it," I told him firmly, letting my tone tell him exactly how important this was.

So many emotions flew through his emerald gaze that I couldn't count, let alone identify them all. "I do love you, Draco. Have I not proven that to you?" he asked, his own tone shivering with regret.

"You have," I conceded. He showed me every single day how much he adored me, with every kiss, with every glance I felt it, but ever the Malfoy, I wanted more. "Now I just need you to show the doubters that I'm not some rumor or fling."

"I just don't understand why our relationship can't be kept private," he told me, and not for the first time. "If I had it my way my name would never show up in the papers."

"Well you don't have it your way, and quite frankly I'm tired of mine showing up as 'Harry Potter's boy toy'," I huffed. That had been the latest by Rita Skeeter who claimed Harry was bedding me as an experiment before he ran off to steal Hermione away from Ron. She even had the audacity to hint that Hermione joined us on occasion.

An amused smile quirked at the edges of Harry's lips but apparently he knew better than to laugh outright. "Are you saying that you're _not_ my boy toy?" he asked at last, waggling his eyebrows and obviously trying to lighten the mood but I would have none of that.

"Is that all I am to you, Harry?" I asked, my tone glacial and faint in the suddenly frosty, yet elegant, dining room. His smile dropped at once and he stood, pulling me to my feet as well in one graceful movement. "No," he told me firmly. "You, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, are the love of my life. If I can prove that to you with dinner, then all you have to do is tell me where you'd like to go."

Harry always said the right things to melt me into a puddle of warm liquid at his feet. With him standing there, pressed against me, his hot breath on my lips, all I could do was sigh and give in to his apology. "Very well then," I responded, trying to maintain some sense of decorum, but my shaking voice betrayed my mounting affection. "I think we should go to Anthony's," I told him at last, waiting for his answer.

He nearly refused me; I could tell by the subtle widening of his eyes and the almost imperceptible lightening in the color of his lips as he tightened them. He knew just as well as I did that Anthony's was the favorite for people to stop in for dinner just before the Gala where they only served drinks and light hors' devours. He knew that by going there, it was practically the same as being announced at the Ministry doors together. But my Harry didn't let me down, he simply nodded and kissed me, whirling me around until I was sitting on the edge of the table, his growing erection pressed into my thigh. "Anything for you, My Love," he told me. "But I hope you're willing to reward me for this," he added, rubbing his erection against my own.

"Always ready for that, My Sweet," I replied, kissing him again until my mother walked into the room and cleared her throat sharply.

"Draco, Harry," she addressed us directly. "Where in Merlin's name are your manners? There will be no fornicating on the dining room table before midnight. Upstairs with the both of you," she ordered, as if chastising a couple of small children for playing Quidditch in the house.

Harry and I both blushed furiously and bowed slightly as we made our escape, chuckling all the way upstairs before falling into bed together. The laughs died quickly once clothing was removed and Harry's hot mouth was on mine as we slithered out of our robes and onto the bed.

I never tired of making love to Harry. It was as if every time I found a new inch of skin I hadn't yet explored or a new sound he made that caused my body to shudder with pleasure. This morning he was forceful and passionate when he took me, his hands pinning my arms above me so that I couldn't protest to his long, deep thrusts –not that I would have. After the world stopped spinning around us, Harry fell to the mattress beside me and curled a leg up over my own as he trailed fingers down the flushed skin of my chest.

"I love you, Harry," I told him, since he'd shown me just how much he loved me that morning and was planning to show me further that night. I thought the sentiment was the very least I could offer in return.

"That's all I need," he whispered against the crook of my neck and I smiled, knowing he would try to get out of dinner at Anthony's at least twice before dinnertime, but I also knew he would take me because it was important to me, and I think he understood that now.

------------------------------------------------------------------

I was mistaken. Harry only tried once, and rather halfheartedly to get out of dinner at Anthony's. I was impressed. He looked dapper in black satin robes with matte black ivy patterns working their way up from the base. He wore a black on black suit underneath with the only color a small green design on the cuff of the robes with emerald and silver buttons on his shirt. He looked mouthwatering and it was almost _me_ who persuaded _him_ to stay home.

I wore a set of steely gray robes with deep black edging so that the color didn't wash me out. My suit was also black, but I wore a crisp white shirt and a tie that matched the smoky gray of my robes. We were probably the most beautiful couple in all of England and I was a bit miffed that we wouldn't be showing that off at the Ministry Gala, but the important part was that I was with Harry; I tried to remind myself of that fact every time my mind drifted to a dark place that told me Harry was just cooling his heels with me while the whole business with Ginevra passed over and then he'd move on as well. Harry loved me, I shouldn't doubt that, but after a year of his rejections coupled with the hatred of the wizarding world, that was easier said than done. I just knew at any moment Harry might see what the rest of the public did and leave me. I certainly wasn't worthy of him or his love.

"Ready, Darling?" he asked, his eyes sparkling in the light of the delicate chandelier in the foyer. It pulled me out of my revere to hear him speak. Apparently I'd just been staring at our reflections in the mirror for several minutes.

"Ready," I replied, and that word meant so much more to me. I was ready to take the next step with my Harry, I was ready to make him mine forever, I was ready to show the world that we would last and we would always be in love and yes, I was also ready for dinner.

His smile made my heart flutter and he took my arm as we stepped outside before Apparating to the alley outside the restaurant.

Anthony's was a massive and opulent Italian restaurant located just a few blocks north of the Ministry ballroom, so it was only natural that all the elite witches and wizards went there to dine before dancing the night away with their friends and co-workers. I hadn't had much fun the last time I'd come to this restaurant, but that was because I was with Luke and pining over Harry. Now, I was hand in hand with the man I had hoped to call my own so long ago.

"Reservation for two under Potter," Harry told the hostess when we arrived. The woman looked him over approvingly until her gaze extended to his date. Once she spotted me her eyes lit up, as if she were already counting the Galleons she'd be paid by Rita Skeeter for this inside information.

Harry must have seen the same gleam in her eyes because he looked decidedly upset, but it didn't stop him from winding an arm around my waist, letting his hand rest on my hip rather possessively. I smiled in spite of myself and nuzzled into him, feeling Harry relax without even having to look at me.

"Right this way, Sirs," she intoned and motioned for us to follow her to an intimate table along the edge of the room. She handed us our menus and departed with a smirk. I could bet ten galleons that the moment she got back to her podium she'd be calling the _Daily Prophet_.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," I murmured.

"Why?" Harry asked, his gaze not letting anything slip by him as he took in the other patrons of the restaurant and then settled back onto me. "Because she's about to have the media swarming this place?"

"Exactly," I replied, feeling a little chagrined. "I'm sorry. I didn't think this through. We can go somewhere else if you'd prefer."

"No," Harry replied with a soft smile. "This is our night. We'll handle whatever happens in stride and together."

I nodded, not wanting to argue further and make things worse. We selected a nice bottle of wine and I was pleased to note that the waiter had far more scruples than the young lady in the front and didn't even hesitate to see Harry and I together on an obviously intimate date. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the boy didn't recognize us at all, but more likely he was just angling for a large tip. Even people handling Muggle celebrities knew that discretion was usually preferred.

While the waiter rattled off the night's specials, I let my gaze wander to Harry, who looked perfectly relaxed as he listened and decided on what he wanted. I ordered the scallops while Harry ordered the mushroom ravioli and then the waiter excused himself to go place our orders with the kitchen.

Harry beamed at me, his entire expression revealing a hopeful desire and I was returning those feelings tenfold. One day I was determined to marry this man and spend the rest of our lives together. At that moment, I got the suspicion that if I were to ask, Harry would have agreed, but before I could muster up the courage for a proposal, or even before our dinners could arrive, our moment of bliss was tarnished.

"Harry?"

The voice wasn't mine, nor was it the waiter's or anyone else we'd mind interrupting our silent moment of acceptance. It was Harry's former fiancée.

Harry looked over and I knew it was the first time he'd seen Ginevra since their broken wedding day, but even if I hadn't, I would have been able to tell from the look of dismay on his face. This was exactly the scene the Minister was trying to prevent at his party. "Ginny," he replied and got up from the table. I could tell he was uncomfortable, as if he didn't know whether to hug her or shake her hand or keep completely to himself. I couldn't instruct him, I could only sit there quietly and hope she went away soon.

"I didn't think you would make it to the Gala tonight. Ron said you'd declined the invitation," she whispered and I could tell she was mentally noting to kill Ron for the misinformation.

"I'm not. We're just out for dinner," he replied gently, and her eyes flicked to me for the first time since her arrival.

"Malfoy," she said coldly, not in greeting, but more as if she was confirming her worst fears. "So, the papers are true. You did leave me for him."

"You of all people should know that the papers are rarely accurate, but yes, I'm dating Draco now," he replied civilly, though there was a note to his voice that was a clear warning that his preference of date was not to be disparaged.

I saw a tear well up in the corner of her eyes and I averted my gaze. I couldn't look at the woman's face after stealing her fiancé. As happy as I was to have Harry, I never intended on anyone getting hurt in the process. I noticed Harry contemplate averting his eyes in a similar manner, but he remained attentive as he stood there, albeit awkwardly.

"I hope you're happy," she replied, and I was certain by her sarcastic tone that she felt exactly the opposite.

Harry however, didn't miss a beat. "I am," he replied honestly. "Very."

Her eyes narrowed and she would have left if not for another person coming up to stand beside her, followed by several others. Beside her, and mostly towering over her was my own ex, Luke and behind them an entire troupe of redheaded Weasleys. Ron, Hermione, Molly and Arthur stood around them and I could see other Weasleys behind them. There was only one word I could have come up with for that singular moment in time.

Awkward.

"I'm sure you both remember Luke," Ginny chimed, her spirits lifted significantly with the delicious Frenchman on her arm.

Luke dipped his head in both our directions. His face was schooled into a careful mask and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Finally Harry sat back down and took my hand across the table. I glanced at him, hoping that I wouldn't see the spark of jealousy in his eye at seeing Ginevra with someone else that I saw when I was in her same position. Having Luke on your arm can turn the purest heart green with envy as I knew from experience. But his eyes were soft and only for me, as if trying to gauge my reaction to seeing Luke there as well. Was Harry still jealous of the French beauty? Did he think the man held even a candle to the flame I felt for him?

"It turns out he is also a magnificent lover of women," Ginny said, interrupting my quiet moment with Harry. Apparently she didn't like the fact that she wasn't getting the reaction she wanted.

"I'm genuinely happy for you, Ginny," Harry replied, turning to face her again. "You deserve someone who will love you for you and who wants the same things you do. Luke's ambition should match your own quite perfectly."

Her eyes narrowed, as if she was searching for some insult in Harry's words, but she'd be looking forever. I knew Harry meant her no ill will and judging from the open acceptance in his eyes, he hoped Luke could provide her everything she'd been looking for. A slight smile erupted on Luke's face and I could tell that he was quickly coming to grips with the situation. "So, the rumors are true?" he asked. "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have finally found love?"

I could hear Ron scoff and heard the telltale pop of Hermione smacking his arm sharply while Ron's parents seemed to shift forward to better hear Harry's words. "I've never been so happy in my entire life," he replied, looking at each person in turn to make sure his words took root. "Draco is my perfect companion in every way."

I nearly laughed aloud at Ron as his face turned a sickly green. It was his own fault for assuming Harry was talking about sex, or only sex I should say. I couldn't help but flush a bit at his words myself. He'd paid me every kind word and compliment I'm sure he could ever think of, but this was something else altogether.

"And you, Malfoy," piped in a voice I hadn't expected. I looked up and into the round face of the Weasley matriarch and she gave me an appraising look. "How do you feel about our Harry?"

I could feel the warmth flowing out of my date at her words. I knew a heartfelt apology was all it would take to win his heart again. If things progressed the way I would like for my lovely boyfriend, perhaps we would be spending Christmas at two homes this year.

"I love him heart and soul and I would never part from him, even if my life depended on it," I answered honestly and Harry's flush matched my own a moment later.

"That could be arranged," Ron muttered, but Hermione's elbow to his ribs cut that remark off and the others seemed to ignore it as typical.

"Well, I think you both look lovely tonight," Hermione chimed in, winking at us, "and I think we've interrupted your dinner enough for one night."

"I agree," Molly huffed and began bustling the other Weasleys to their own reserved table, which I was happy to note, was separated in another room. Ginny cast Harry one last lingering glance but Luke shuffled her along and only Molly hung back. "Harry dear, I'll be expecting you and Draco along for Thanksgiving dinner," she mentioned. "You two can bring the cranberry dressing. And if you'd like to come for a Sunday dinner before hand, just send me an owl."

Harry chuckled and smiled. "I'll do that, Molly. Thanks."

Mrs. Weasley just beamed at him and pinched his cheek lightly. "Don't be a stranger, Harry. We've missed you, even Ron, though he's too stubborn to admit it."

With that, she left, following the rest of her dinner party into the next room and I let out a sigh of relief that they were gone. Now for damage control. "Alright, Harry?" I asked and he looked over at me with shining eyes.

"Everything is great, Draco," he replied and leaned over to kiss me, a deep and unabashed show of affection that made my knees weak. "I'm glad you talked me into coming out tonight."

"So, Thanksgiving?" I asked, utterly baffled at the prospect.

"It's an American Muggle Holiday," Harry explained. "Molly just searches out excuses to get everyone together for a big dinner."

I just shook my head in dismay, though I should have expected as much from the woman who had bustled in and out just now.

Dinner was fabulous, in fact, I think it tasted better now that everything was out in the open and Harry was being welcomed back into the Weasley fold. I knew how important it was to him and I was grateful that the family didn't ruin our night and could see the error of their ways; at least most of them could.

As we left I tensed again, seeing a barrage of reporters and photographers swarming the exit. I waited with bated breath for Harry to lose his temper or shuffle us off in a hurry but his stride never broke as he took my hand and pulled me through the crowd.

"Mr. Potter, is it true you and Draco have been living together?"

"Yes, it is," Harry answered without slowing down.

The reporters were shocked to get something out of him and they pressed in on us, demanding more. I thought the influx might make Harry change his mind about going out in public, seeing that the media had no intentions of leaving us alone anytime soon.

"Mr. Malfoy, have you been brainwashing Mr. Potter?"

"What!" I balked, but Harry only rolled his eyes.

"That's ludicrous," Harry responded and the tiny bald reporter pursed his lips.

"Would you care to give a statement, Harry?"

Harry stopped then and apparently recognized the speaker. I looked over to see Luna Lovegood with a hovering quill and paper and then flicked back to Harry who looked pleasantly surprised. "I think I would Miss Lovegood," he replied, looking defiant. He glanced at me but I didn't know what he was asking exactly; permission maybe? Either way I didn't know what to do, so I just shrugged.

"This man at my side, Draco Malfoy, is my companion and lover and I intend to keep him forever," Harry told her with a smile, as he winked at me. I couldn't help it, I was so overcome with adoration for the man who had been showering me with compliments all night, making me feel all the love I had been worried about for months and here he was declaring his love for me to the very people he had shied away from. It was too much.

I leapt at him and kissed him fiercely, feeling his deep chuckle as he kissed me back. "I love you," he whispered for my ears alone and I felt warm all over.

"Does that mean that you wish to marry Mr. Malfoy?" another reporter asked and I held my breath.

Harry didn't falter for even a moment. "Yes. I do."

"Let's go home," I purred against the shell of his ear. I couldn't wait to get him back to the manor and show him how much I adored every inch of him. Harry smirked and waved to the gathered crowd before Apparating us back to Malfoy Manor. I was the happiest man alive.

Author's Note: So fluffy. I think they deserved a bit of fluff after the tormenting year I'd put them through.


	17. December 24th, 2000

Author's Note: Many thanks to Laurel and Angel for beta reading this chapter. It's the final installment I'm afraid. I'll miss this story, its ups, its downs... but on the plus side I already have a new (slightly less angsty) story to take its place.

Chapter 17 December 24th, 2000

Things were rather hectic immediately after Draco and I declared our love to the world. I had an endless stream of press trying to secure an exclusive story on our impending wedding, which wasn't even going to happen if things kept going as they were.

Not a word had been said about my blurted proposal, if that was even what it was. Not even Narcissa brought it up, which was unusual, and Draco remained cautiously mum about it as well. Apparently telling all of wizarding England that you wanted to marry and spend the rest of your life with a person didn't equate to a proper proposal in Draco's eyes because we never went ring shopping and he never so much as pretended we were engaged, so I supposed we weren't.

I was too embarrassed to bring it up again, personally. I had thrown caution to the wind and left my heart beating on my sleeve but all it did was get blood on my robes. Draco took the gallant gesture in stride with the rest of the evening's events and we moved on as if it had never happened. We were healthier afterward though; Draco no longer held animosity toward me for trying to keep our relationship a secret. That certainly wasn't a problem now.

Our pictures were in every publication. All we had to do was step out the front door for ice cream or meander through the aisles at Quality Quidditch and we were bombarded with flashes and scribbling quills. It got old fairly quickly and Draco was taking the brunt of it since the wizarding world still didn't trust the name Malfoy, but we both knew it was too late to slink back into the bliss of solitude after the events at the restaurant that night. Eventually we grew used to it and with nothing more exciting than a heated public kiss every now and then, the press got bored with us.

The most lasting occurrence had been the renewed acceptance of the Weasley family. The very next day after our run-in at Anthony's we had gotten an owl from Ron and Hermione inviting us out to dinner with them and we hesitantly agreed. I had no idea what to expect from the evening and I won't lie, it was awkward, but Draco muddled through it with grace and dignity and by the end of the night even Ron was pleased with him, although that might have been in part to the fact that Draco had box seats for the Chudley Cannon games. Either way, I was glad that the two most important men in my life were making the effort to get along. It meant the world to me.

After the successful evening with Hermione and Ron, we attempted a Sunday dinner at the Burrow, and even Narcissa came along with us. She and Molly prepared more food than I've ever seen cooked in that kitchen and it was interesting to see how well the two pureblood women from entirely different backgrounds melded together as if they were sisters. Arthur carried on as if the wedding to Ginny had never been planned or botched and the rest of the Weasley clan had a blast making Draco their new plaything. My boyfriend (fiancé?) quickly became the target of their jokes and schemes. As much as Draco put up a fuss, I could tell he was having fun and enjoying himself because his smiles always reached his eyes.

Ginny was a hard win, but she seemed genuinely smitten with her new man, the French Minister, and eventually even she fell into civility when she saw how happy Draco and I were together, but I think that had more to do with her family's acceptance of us, not her own. I could tell by the way she held herself, only speaking when she was carefully surrounded by the ring of the French Minister's arms, that she was still bitter over my handling of the events that led to my happiness, and for that I couldn't really blame her.

"It's sickening," she commented jokingly, but I could tell from the tight press of her lips that she was not amused. "You don't have to feed him, Harry. I'm sure Draco's upbringing included learning how to use utensils."

"It's just a bit of cake," I defended and she shook her head as if she'd been arguing with a child who would never listen until Luke leaned over and offered her some cake from his own fingers. Suddenly it didn't seem such a silly thing.

Sunday dinners with the Weasley's became a tradition after that night and every week the group grew less angry with me for abandoning their Ginny and more accepting of Draco. Everything was beginning to fall together and I felt as though I'd been working for years on a puzzle that only had a handful of pieces left to put in place.

----------------------------------------------

The morning of Christmas Eve was chilly and through the windows I could see that snow had already begun to fall. Draco had woken up before me but to my great pleasure, he hadn't left the bed. I turned to find him propped up on one elbow watching me sleep with a lazy smile on his face that I knew was reserved for me alone. "Was I drooling?" I asked, my voice hazy with sleep.

"A little," Draco replied with a smile and pretended as though he was wiping it away from my chin.

I rolled my eyes at him but he kissed me in the next moment and that fire built in my gut, the one I always felt when his lips even so much as grazed mine. This was my heart and soul lying right next to me and I often clung to him as if he was the last thread that kept me tethered to Earth, and in a way he was. If Draco parted from this world, even with the support I would get from the Weasleys, I wouldn't be long behind him.

Which reminded me….

"Whatever happened with that blood debt?" I asked. It hadn't been brought up the entire time we were together, I hadn't even thought about it since before the wedding but now the prospect of old magical debts loomed over me like a guillotine blade waiting to fall.

"I still owe it," Draco replied with a yawn as if he was stating that he'd like eggs for breakfast, not talking about something that might very well kill him.

"What can we do about that?" I asked. I didn't think my life was in terrible danger, really. My position as Auror was almost up with the Ministry and even then I had been assigned very little fieldwork lately. Still, I didn't want some unfulfilled ancient pureblood magic withering my lover away.

Draco merely shrugged and looked down at me. "We can talk about it later," he replied. "Would you like to go flying today?" he asked, changing the subject. I was always wary of Draco when he did that, but I nodded. He would tell me what he was hiding when he was ready, of that much I was sure.

He beamed at me and we started to get ready for the day. We had dinner plans at Molly's that night for Christmas Eve, but we had plenty of time for a long shower, made even longer by the fact that we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves, and a leisurely breakfast with Narcissa. She was in high spirits that morning and kept sharing silent conversations with her son through pointed looks. I was beginning to feel like I was being left out of something important but I kept my mouth shut. After all, Christmas was only a few hours away and it probably had something to do with that. I wouldn't hear the end of it if I spoiled a surprise Draco had planned.

These days when we flew we didn't use separate brooms and we weren't in any hurry to beat one another to the Snitch. We still played the occasional game of Quidditch, especially when Ron came to visit, but today was just for us.

Draco wanted to steer, so he sat in front and I curled my arms around his waist, nuzzling into his warmth. I felt safe with his body pressed against mine and his scent was practically absorbed through my pores. We flew north, and the chilly air grew crisper around us until I was nearly shivering against Draco's back. "Can we maybe turn around?" I requested.

"Not yet. I'm looking for something," he replied and I shot a menacing glare at the back of his head that he obviously couldn't see.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or are you going to continue being cryptic until I get angry?" I asked, trying to keep my tone as level as possible.

"Cryptic, was his one word answer and I could tell he was grinning; Draco was mighty proud of himself about something.

We flew for another half-hour when finally Draco cheered and dropped us into a steep dive. I looked at the ground around us but I couldn't see anything of note. No restaurant or hotel, nothing aside from expansive fields frosted with snow. The clouds above us were ominously gray and I began to wonder what Draco had been looking for when I looked over Draco's other shoulder and saw the most vibrant rainbow I'd ever seen.

"Wow," I whispered, my voice filled with awe. In all my years of flying I'd never flown so close to a rainbow. It was like I could reach out and touch it.

"Have you ever been to the end of one?" Draco asked and I shook my head before I realized he couldn't see me.

"Never," I replied. "It's so beautiful."

"The Weather-Witch said that the forecast around here looked good for rainbows today," he told me.

He continued to dive, following the broad arc of colorful light until we were near the ground, and then I saw what we were after. At the end of the rainbow was a tear in the sky. It was as if the air all around us was made of shimmering silk and that fabric had torn and left a jagged hole in its wake. Draco flew toward it and before I could protest or even process what he was doing, he flew _through_ it.

I hadn't realized that I'd slammed my eyes shut, as I braced for impact, until I had to open them to see what happened. The transition into this new world wasn't jarring but rather smooth instead. I knew we were in another world altogether because the field now surrounding us didn't remotely resemble the one we'd just left. There was no rainbow, and in place of the cloudy sky was pure crystalline light.

Below us there was a meadow filled with golden flowers, and when I say golden I don't mean yellow, I mean real gold, just as brilliant and tangible as a Galleon. They sparkled and swayed in the breeze along with the tall grass that resembled shiny pulled taffy. I saw a single tree in the meadow, its leaves were still colored in autumn crimsons and ambers and I realized when Draco flew us closer that they weren't leaves at all. What I had thought was a leaf on the tree was actually a single gemstone, perfectly cut and shimmering in the afternoon sun.

"Draco this is magnificent," I breathed, terrified my voice would irreparably disturb this magical world around us.

"I thought it was the perfect place," Draco said as he landed us under the canopy of the tree.

"Perfect place for what?" I asked, gazing around the meadow from a different perspective now that I was on the ground.

"For this," Draco said and when I turned back to face him he was on one knee. I gasped, not expecting for a moment what it seemed Draco's intentions had been all along.

"Draco," I whispered, my eyes going wide. "What are you doing?"

A flicker of doubt ran across his smoldering eyes but it was banished just as quickly as he steeled himself and reached into his robe pocket to fish out a tiny black box. "I figured if I wanted a proper proposal, one that was private and just for us, I'd have to arrange it myself. So, Harry?" he asked and I grinned uncontrollably before falling to my knees as well, grasping his hands in mine.

"Will you make me the happiest wizard alive and marry me?" he asked and I could barely speak my answer I was so choked with emotion.

I nodded at once and eventually got out a strangled 'yes' before smothering his face with wet and sloppy kisses. He chuckled and captured my face to still it before planting a deep and passionate kiss on my lips where it belonged. A ring was slipped on my finger and when I looked down I recognized it at once as the ring he'd given me that day the war ended.

"I didn't think I'd ever get to see that on your finger again," he whispered, his throat tight and raspy with his own withheld emotions.

"What does this mean?" I asked, knowing there was more significance behind the ring than just an engagement symbol.

"It means we're bound now. You accept me freely and the blood debt will be satisfied with our marriage," he explained.

"I think it's already satisfied," I told him, my voice still whispering.

He quirked a delicate blond eyebrow and stared at me. "Why is that?"

"Because you saved my life when you showed me you loved me," I told him, and that was the honest truth. Several times I had sat awake at night as Draco slept beside me and I wondered how different my life would have been if I had gone through with the wedding, or if I hadn't attended Lucius' funeral, or if I hadn't saved Draco's life that night in the Room of Requirement in the first place.

In the scheme of my life -one filled with wars and terribly powerful wizards - these all seemed like relatively small events, but every decision had been life-altering and each choice had led me to this place and this time. Now more than ever, here in Draco's loving and tender embrace, I was the man I was meant to become.

Fin

Author's Note: Don't get used to all this fluff and ending on a sweet note! I _am_ evil, remember. I have a few dark and tragic things in store for all those willing to venture there with me. Until then, I'm content that another Drarry couple ends with an awwww.


End file.
